Distorted
by LNicol1990
Summary: After a raid, Ed starts to act strangely. Soon everyone has to pitch in, to protect Edward... from himself. Rating may change.
1. First sign of trouble

* * *

Author's Note: I don't know when I'll update this, I've got chapters 2+3 written in a book, waiting to be typed up. But, with college almost finished, I should be able to update quickly, fingers crossed.

I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.

* * *

The large double doors burst open with a bang, and Winry Rockbell rushed into the white, sterile looking waiting room. Her hair was unkempt from rushing to her destination and a bag of mechanical tools had been haphazardly slung over one shoulder. Her bright blue eyes, strained from worry and lack of sleep, darted over the many strangers until she saw who she was looking for.

"Al!" she called out, making her way to the armoured suit that contained the soul of one of her best friends, Alphonse Elric.

"Winry, thanks for getting here so quickly," Al greeted her, although his tone didn't hide that he wished that they were meeting under better circumstances.

"After you called, I couldn't get here soon enough. What's going on?" Winry asked.

Alphonse paused, and looked to the people around him. There was Colonel Mustang and Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye was beside him, waiting for her.

"You can hear the story on the way," Mustang announced.

Winry looked between the trio, expecting someone, especially Al, to elaborate. She waited for a minute before reluctantly nodding her head. She could tell when she had to play a game by someone else's rules.

With that, Mustang, Hawkeye and Alphonse began making their way towards the doors that Winry had just walked through. She stood still and watched them go, not understanding why they were leaving the hospital.

"Ed's not in the hospital; he's in a separate ward in another building," Al explained as soon as he noticed Winry's confused expression.

Winry didn't comment, though her expression said more than she ever could with words. All this secrecy was really beginning to irritate her, and also, not knowing what was going on was frightening her. A thousand scenarios were obviously running through her head.

Unable to give her a comforting smile, Al stretched out his hand towards her, hoping that the gesture would be well received. He was thankful when she joined his side a moment later.

When they were outside, Mustang led them, while Hawkeye brought up the rear. They were making their way towards what looked like an abandoned building that might once have been part of the hospital. However, closer inspection would show that it wasn't as old as Winry had first thought, maybe not even half a decade. There were slight distortions in a lower section of the building that caught Winry's eyes, and she recognised their cause.

The distortions could only have been caused by alchemy.

"What's going on, Al?" Winry pleaded, suddenly feeling much more insecure about the situation.

"Well... It all started about a week ago," Al began.

"The state had received information about a rogue alchemist hiding out in the Central area," Hawkeye reported from behind them. "We asked Edward for his help before he left his latest lead on the Philosopher's Stone."

"As it would only be for one night night's worth of raids, Brother agreed," Al continued. "It was really simple, and we managed to investigate most of the locations that night."

"So, what happened?" Winry inquired.

"On the last house we checked, we found the alchemist," Mustang summed up. "Things didn't go quite according to plan..."

* * *

_7 days ago..._

"Alright, Al. Last raid tonight, and then we're on the train first thing in the morning," Ed smiled, eagerly anticipating his bed.

"Aren't you going to be tired tomorrow, Brother?" Al asked, more than aware of how short his brother's temper was he hadn't had enough sleep.

"I'll sleep on the train," Ed answered, shrugging his shoulders.

Al didn't comment. He'd had enough of intruding people's homes tonight, and was looking forwards to getting back to the room that he and Ed shared. Although he would have nothing to do until dawn, he could always pretend that he was asleep, or quietly reread some of his brother's alchemy books.

Ed looked over to Mustang, who had joined them for this house, along with Hawkeye. The colonel nodded and they all advanced. No sooner had they set foot on the premise when traps were set off at their feet.

Ed easily managed to either dodge, ride out or transmutate the traps and was soon at the door. Al, Mustang and Hawkeye quickly joined him respectively.

"Guess we can safely say 'this is the place'," Ed quipped to Mustang.

Mustang nodded reverently. Then, his sights set firmly on the door; he gave it an almighty kick. The door almost flew off its hinges as it opened to reveal an empty corridor.

"Well, what do you know? No one's here to see us in after the warm welcome," Edward remarked sarcastically.

"Alright, Fullmetal, you take the ground floor. Lieutenant Hawkeye and I will search upstairs, Mustang ordered.

"Right," Ed nodded. "Come on, Al."

As Mustang and Hawkeye disappeared upstairs, Edward and Alphonse began cautiously opening doors as they made their way down the corridor. After empty room after empty room, both brothers could feel the rising tension and apprehension that each next door would bring. They had both completely forgotten the possibility that the alchemist might be upstairs, where Mustang and Hawkeye were.

Finally, they reached the last door.

Opening the set of double doors revealed rows of bookshelves. The last room was a library. As Edward entered the room, he caught some of the titles. All the books were on alchemy. He had stepped into a library completely devoted to alchemy.

It was then that he noticed a strange glow coming from his right. Turning his head slightly, he saw that the light was radiating from the bookcase beside him. Although warning alarms rang through his mind, and he knew that he had to run, to vacate that spot immediately, all he could do was stare with morbid fascination. He couldn't even blink.

"Brother!" Al yelled in alarm.

Ed blinked and the spell was broken. He turned his head slightly to look at his brother, knowing that it was too late for him to run.

Then the bookcase exploded. It wasn't the kind of explosion that went bang and obliterated everything in a 10m radius. Instead, the bookcase went _poof_ and vaporised, turning into a cloud of fine dust. The cloud engulfed Edward completely.

From within the dust cloud, Al could hear his brother coughing and cursing. The cloud quickly dissipated to show a disgruntled Edward, who was covered in a layer of dust. He was waving his arms around to further banish the unwanted addition to the air from around him.

Ed turned to glare at his brother, daring him to laugh. However, the chuckling came from deeper within the library, from the alchemist they'd come to catch.

After taking a deep breath to calm himself, Edward advanced further into the library to confront the alchemist. Every time he moved, the dust would lift off his clothes, skin and hair, making him force back more coughing. The feeling of all the dust made him want to shake, jerk around and spend the rest of the night under a shower. He didn't want to think about what the dust was doing to the joints in his automail, and wasn't looking forward to the prospect of cleaning it.

_I'm probably gonna have to take it apart to get it all out,_ he thought grimly.

Finally, he entered the main sitting area which held a variety of chairs, tables and desks. His attention was focused on one particular chair. It was a cushy armchair that looked far too squishy for comfort. In that chair was a man.

He was not a rather memorable man; he looked like anyone else that might be expected to be on the street, doing menial tasks like shopping for dinner or for a special gift for his wife or child. He was one of those familiar strangers. But, then again, most alchemists were just ordinary looking people, only they could perform alchemy.

The man grinned slyly at Edward and Alphonse as they emerged from the rows of bookcases. He looked far from worried by the two intruders in his house. Indeed, he was looking quite smug with Edward's appearance.

"Welcome to my humble abode," the man greeted. "How do you like it?"

"There are other ways to tell people to stay out," Ed retorted. "And what was that bookcase all about?! Is that your way of saying I need a shower?!"

The man's grin grew wider at Edward's remarks. The look of satisfaction was obvious on his face.

"Freeze! Don't move," a fierce order came from above the brother's heads.

It was Lieutenant Hawkeye. She had her gun trained on the man in the armchair. She looked more than slightly ruffled and more than slightly pissed off. Judging by her less than immaculate uniform, which bore some cuts and a couple of burn marks, she'd also faced one of this alchemist's traps.

Colonel Mustang, who was standing beside her, was also wearing a now less-than-perfect attire. He looked sternly at the alchemist.

"Vel Hanigh," Mustang stated. "You are under arrest for the illegal and improper use of alchemy."

During this distraction, Ed and Al had moved closer to the alchemist while ensuring that Hawkeye still had a clear shot. Ed had also transmuted his automail wrist guard into a blade and was waiting for someone to give him a reason to attack or fall back. With the dust trickling down his back and making it almost impossible for him to remain still, he wanted this confrontation to end quickly.

The five of them remained motionless for several minutes; all were waiting for someone else to move and none were willing to be the one to set off a fight.

Finally, the alchemist slowly raised his hands in defeat.

* * *

_Present day..._

"That doesn't sound like it was _that_ hard," Winry noted.

"His arrest wasn't overly difficult, no," Hawkeye admitted. "However, problems arose after he was apprehended."

"How?" Winry frowned.

"Fullmetal," Mustang explained. "He developed a cough shortly after we left the building. It was from breathing in all that dust."

"He said it wasn't serious, and that it would clear up by in a day or two," Hawkeye continued.

"But... it didn't," Al summed up. "Brother's cough only got worse in the morning."

* * *

_6 days ago..._

Ed gasped before doubling over to continue the coughing fit, which he'd had for more than five minutes. He wasn't sure who's arm he was holding onto, and wasn't eager to find out. His vision was blurred from the tears that his coughing had brought, but he could still see the carpet that was on Colonel Mustang's office floor. Every cough felt like it was gouging out more from his already raw throat.

_I have to breathe... I can't pass out..._

Slowly the convulsions subsided and his breathing got easier. He wiped his eyes with his left sleeve; and, once he could see relatively well, he straightened up. Looking to his right, he saw a metal arm, which he instinctively knew to belong to his brother.

A gloved hand appeared, holding a glass of water. It was Lieutenant Hawkeye. While her face was fairly indifferent, her eyes betrayed how worried she was of his coughing. Her eyes seemed to be saying: _You can't stand for ten minutes before coughing. You're not alright, despite what you say._

In the office around them, Falman, Havoc, Fuery, and Brosh were completing their assignments, filling out paperwork and filing their reports. Every single one of them was trying to surreptitiously watch what Edward was doing, and each of them failing miserably. All had a stern face which was obviously a front, which they had yet to perfect, in order to hide their own concern for the young State Alchemist.

Ignoring their half-hidden glances, Ed took the glass wordlessly and drank. He felt relief flood through him as the cool liquid ran down his throat, easing the irritation that was threatening to make him cough again. As the heat from his raw throat receded, he began to feel semi-normal.

"You should see a doctor about that, Fullmetal," Mustang commented nonchalantly from his desk.

"I'm fine," Ed retorted, ignoring the look Hawkeye was giving him. "The dust's just a bit finer than I thought it was."

"You had to grab your brother's arm so you could stay on your feet," Mustang noted, raising his gaze from his paperwork.

"I told you: I'm fine," Ed insisted.

"Then a trip to the infirmary shouldn't be a problem," Mustang countered.

Edward didn't reply. He returned the glass to Lieutenant Hawkeye and turned for the door.

"Brother, where are you going?" Al queried in alarm. "Brother?!"

Ed had only walked four paces and could feel his body baulking as another coughing fit threatened to rear its ugly head. He held his breath, refusing to give air to fan these particular flames. However, his head soon began to swim and his vision blurred. As he felt his balance falter, his legs collapsed and he felt his human knee hit the floor. He managed to throw his hands out for him to catch himself, but it was too late. The jolt had already done the damage.

Edward slowly and carefully lowered himself down so that he was on the floor with his legs under him and his automail arm resting on the ground, just above his head. His left arm was tucked close to his body as he covered his mouth with his left hand. He didn't bother moving as the coughing racked his body.

"Fullmetal!""Brother!" Hawkeye and Alphonse yelled at the same time.

All pretences of indifference promptly left everyone in the room. As Hawkeye and Alphonse rushed to Edward, neither of them was sure of what they could do to help.

"Fuery, tell the infirmary they have a patient coming in," Mustang ordered, rising from his desk.

"Yes sir!" the young officer snapped to attention before rushing to the door.

"Brother!" Al cried in fear before turning to Mustang.

The colonel realised that something was definitely wrong and joined Al on Edward's left side. Once he knelt down to better observe the older brother, he stiffened in shock, his eyes wide with fear. He looked up to Fuery, who had frozen fearfully when Al had spoken.

"Hurry Fuery!" Mustang barked before looking back down. He could hear Fuery's frantic footsteps echoing down the hall as he ran. "Fullmetal, you have to stop coughing," he hissed urgently in the alchemist's ear.

However, Edward didn't stop. His whole body was shaking from the strain, his hands clenched in agony. And, every time the coughing paused, a strange gargling sound came from Edward as he breathed in.

"Dammit, Edward!" Mustang snapped angrily. "I said stop coughing!"

Mustang brought his hand down onto Edward's back slightly heavier than he had intended to. Regardless, it seemed to have done the trick.

Edward coughed extensively for the next few seconds before stopping. Although the coughing had stopped, Edward didn't move. His small frame was still trembling violently, though not to the extent that it had been.

Mustang caught Hawkeye's eye and nodded to her. The two of them carefully and strategically placed one hand on Edward's back and the other grasped his shoulders. Gently and persistently, they pulled him up until he was sitting on his heels. Upon sight of his face, both faltered and Hawkeye gasped in shock.

Edward was unhealthily pallid and his skin looked clammy. His eyes were dull, almost lifeless, moist from tears, and screaming of pain to anyone who cared to look at him. But, worst of all, there was a trail of a liquid that ran from his mouth down to his chin.

Hawkeye risked a glance down to Edward's left hand, and she felt her stomach clench sickeningly. There, in stark contrast to his white glove, was a mark that was bright and as clear as day. The mark, also on Edward's face, was bright red blood.

Lieutenant Hawkeye swallowed calmly and returned her attention to Edward's face. He was fighting for awareness above the pain and his eyes were slowly regaining their life.

"Come on, Edward," she murmured gently to him. "Let's get you to the infirmary."


	2. A turn for the worst

Author's Note: theretard5892 asked if the other chapters were going to be as long as the first, and my answer is yes. I usually have my chapters between 1000-2500 words, but definitely no more than 3000. This one was pushing my limit, but I'm a sucker for editing things out. And for everyone else, thanks for reviewing.

* * *

_6 days ago...._

Edward was pointedly staring at the ground by his feet. He was looking extremely sorry for himself and uncomfortable at being on a hospital bed.

Mustang had to admit he felt sorry for the poor kid. Reluctantly, he looked away from Edward and focused on the approaching doctor. He tried not to flinch when Edward started coughing again, nor sneak a glance at the alchemist.

"It's definitely haemoptysis, caused by a rupture in his respiratory tract," the doctor confirmed. "My guess would be from some foreign object that gotten into his lungs. Any ideas what could be?"

"He was involved in a raid, last night," Mustang stated. "He breathed in a letter of dust."

"Anyone affected?"

"He was the only one to breathe it in," Mustang replied.

"Well, that may have caused it," the doctor admitted.

The sound of the coughing had stopped and Mustang and the doctor turned to observe Edward. He was handing a bloody tissue to the nurse and was taking a glass of water. He drank it slowly.

Beside him was Alphonse. The suit of armour was watching everything is that his brother did. Despite being unable to showing expression, Al's anxiousness was clear.

"Well Edward," the doctor announced, and walking towards the alchemist. "We're going to give you some acetaminophen; that should help with your throat. And as for your lungs… I'm afraid there's little we can do. You need to stay away from anything that can further irritate your lungs; we can help you in that regard."

"You mean you wanna put me in one of them sterilised boxes?" Ed interpreted, pulling an unimpressed face.

"Yes, there's that," the doctor admitted. "But, we can supply you with masks to cover your nose and mouth. The masks are sterile and they'll keep away any irritants."

"They'll also make me look like an idiot," Ed muttered to Al. "How long would I have to wear a mask?"

"Until the irritant is gone and your lungs have healed sufficiently, which brings me to my last point."

"And what is that?" Ed asked unenthusiastically.

"By the condition of the blood you're coughing up, it's safe to say that you've ruptured some of your airways. This is quite problematic because it could lead to some very serious infections. We have some tablets that I'd like you to take, but there's a few injections that I want to be administered."

Mustang and Al both tensed up. Edward was well known for his dislike of needles, and how far he was willing to go to avoid them. Mustang and Al prepare themselves for a struggle.

"Fine," Ed conceded, shrugging his shoulders.

Mustang stared in amazement, unable to believe what he had just heard. He could not believe that Edward had agreed to more than just one injection, and he wasn't even complaining. Mustang quietly mused that Ed was doing this since he knew he had no chance of getting away, or maybe he knew how serious the situation was.

Either way, the colonel wasn't about to push his luck and decided that he would ask it afterwards.

He watched the young alchemist take the tablets without comment and he sat still while a nurse gave the injections. Once Ed had taken all the necessary medications and had grudgingly put on a mask, Mustang approached.

"If you're gonna say you told me so-" Ed began.

"That was extremely mature of you Fullmetal," Mustang interrupted. "Tell me: when did you get over your fear of needles?"

Ed stared blankly at Mustang for a few moments before turning to look at his arm where the nurse had stuck the needles in. He racked his brain for an explanation, but couldn't find one.

"Don't know," Ed admitted, shrugging his shoulders.

"I guess this means we'll be in Central for a while," Al noted, watching the nurse return.

She quietly handed Ed two small bags. One had replacement masks in it; the other had what looked like tissues. She reminded Edward to change the mask at least once every two hours and immediately if it got wet. With that, she handed him a third bag for him to bring back everything he used for proper disposal, and left to attend her other duties.

"Well, I think they're setting up a bed for me here," Ed stated unhappily. "I'd rather stay in the dorms, but-"

"You'll recover quicker here," Mustang finished. "Try not to exert yourself too much, Fullmetal. It'll cost me a mountain of paperwork."

"I thought Lieutenant Hawkeye made sure you had that already," Ed quietly mumbled through the mask, smirking a hidden smirk.

Mustang pretended that he hadn't heard the young man. He muttered to Edward about taking it easy and left to tackle the mountain of paperwork the Hawkeye probably _had_ already stacked on his desk.

Once the colonel was gone, Ed stretched and yawned. Sudden spasms made him drop his arms and reach for one of the tissues, ripping off the mask in process. The tissues only just managed to make it to his mouth before he started coughing again. He closed his eyes to try to shut out the pain that was flaring through his body.

He could feel Al's hand on his back, but could quite manage to force himself to open his eyes. He didn't want to see his blood shining brightly on the tissue, and to some degree, he didn't want to see Al either.

He knew it was purely egotistical. He had always taken pride in thinking himself to be the big brother, the one who was never weak. Admittedly, he'd shown a certain lack of emotional control, but physically? Sure, he'd been hurt a few dozen times, which had landed him in hospital more than once, but who hasn't?

He was rarely genuinely ill. Even when he and Al had been children, he rarely caught the annual winter cold. He'd had the measles and chicken pox, but only _after_ Al had had them. Ed had always blamed Al for whatever illness he did manage to contract. But this time, it wasn't Al's fault.

No matter what he'd suffered from in the past, Ed had never felt so terrible as he did at that moment, in the hospital, coughing up blood, with his brother's metal hand on his back. He was the older brother. He didn't get sick. And, now that he was, he didn't want to see Al, because that meant that Al could see him. And, if Al could see him then that meant that he was seeing his brother in a fragile state.

Ed hated being ill. He hated being fragile.

The spasm subsided, and Ed wiped around his mouth with a clean piece of the tissue. Once satisfied, he gave the tissue a look of distain, seeing the offending object revealing what it had taken from him. He venomously stuffed the tissue in the disposal bag, which was shortly followed by the mask he had been wearing. With those two items dealt with, Ed pulled out another mask and positioned it onto his face, pulling the chords to latch behind his ears.

Al didn't speak, knowing that his brother wouldn't thank him for any comment he might make. It wasn't until Edward had finished cleaning himself up that Al thought it would be okay for him to speak. He was about to ask Ed if he had any plans for them, when he noticed Ed's curious expression.

"What's wrong, Brother?" Al asked before he realised it. But, he had asked it lightly, like when Ed would frown at something in a book.

"My arm feels weird," Ed answered as if the topic was no more important than the weather.

Ed moved his automail back and forth, twisting it to different angles and all the while testing its mobility and responsiveness. It didn't appear to be functioning any differently to Al, but he knew that his brother wasn't one to complain about some tiny discomfort.

"Maybe you didn't get all the dust out of the joints last night," Al suggested.

"Yeah... that's probably it. We may have to take a detour to Resembool once we leave Central. Winry'll know how best to clean it," Ed mused good-naturedly.

"Right," Al nodded.

It was times like this when Al really hated being in an armoured suit. He couldn't smile an indulgent smile, all the while trying not to show how worried he was. While it wasn't something he particularly wanted to do, he didn't want to be unable to do it either.

Keeping those feelings to himself, Al watched his brother put his coat back on. As they left the hospital, al told himself to keep an eye on Ed, who was trying to remain inconspicuous despite the fact that he was wearing a mask. For some reason, something wasn't sitting right with this whole situation.

_

* * *

_

Present...

"If something was bugging you, why didn't you tell anybody?" Winry asked, frowning at Al.

"I didn't know what it was; it could have just been me being overly worried for Ed," Al defended.

"But it wasn't long before the rest of us picked up on that bad feeling," Lieutenant Hawkeye continued.

"How so?" Winry looked behind her to observe Hawkeye.

It surprised Winry how little they'd travelled from the hospital; they couldn't have travelled any further than a quarter of the distance. Then it occurred to her that they were walking quite slowly, obviously so they could comfortably bring her up to speed and allow her time to ask questions.

"It was only a day later the Fullmetal stopped coughing," Mustang answered. "When the doctors checked him over, they said that there was nothing wrong with him."

"Or so we thought," Al sighed.

_

* * *

_

5 days ago...

"What are you thinking about, Brother?" Al asked as the look appeared on Ed's face for the ninth time that afternoon.

Ed looked up from the book he had been trying to read. Normally he could get into any book, except perhaps romantic novels, but no self-respecting teenage boy would be caught dead with one of those books, or so Edward said. But, this was an alchemy book, and he had been finding it difficult to understand the concepts behind it.

Ed didn't speak for a moment, a blank look on his face as he gazed at Al's helmet. Then, he blinked and the moment passed. He smiled at Al.

"Something's just bugging me," Ed stated simply.

"Alchemy?" his brother inquired.

"No," Ed dismissed, closing the book. "The doctor said it could take weeks for my lungs to heal, maybe they wouldn't ever fully heal."

"But, you're fine now, Brother," Al noted.

"That's the problem, All," Ed shook his head. "Why? If the doctor said my lungs may never fully heal, why are they in perfect condition only a day later?"

Al shrugged. He didn't know the answer, and was inclined to not caring. His brother was better, and that's all he wanted to know.

"Come on, Al," Ed pushed back his chair and stood. "Let's go."

"Go where, Brother?" Al asked as Ed faced the door.

Ed turned back to look at Alphonse. He stared blankly at his younger brother.

If he could, Al would have flushed red with embarrassment. He couldn't help but think that he'd just asked a foolish question, a question that he should have known the answer to.

"He was about to say something when he noticed how blankly Ed was staring at him. Those golden eyes that often spoke a thousand silent words of brotherly love, anguish and solemn promises were strangely guarded. Those eyes looked at him with confusion, and a small amount of fear and mistrust.

"B-Brother?" Al could hear his voice trembling.

Ed blinked. He continued to gaze at Al, but his blank expression was gone and those strange, golden eyes became his again. Ed frowned in concern.

"What's wrong, Al?" Ed asked, his tone laced with worry.

"Huh? Oh, it's nothing," Al giggled nervously. "Weren't we about to go somewhere?"

"Uh, yeah," Ed asked unsurely, watching his brother join his side. "I was thinking the cafeteria."

"Brother," Al sighed in exasperation. "With how much food you eat, I'm surprised you're not fat."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ed asked indignantly.

"Nothing," Al chirped, moving past his brother and walking into the corridor.

For the first time in a long time, Al was glad he was bound to an expressionless suit of armour. He was glad because he knew he would have been unable to hide his concern for Edward if he had been in flesh.

Now, all he had to do was get his brother back to the infirmary and speak to a doctor. Of course, he had to do this without Ed knowing.

_This is going to be fun,_ Al thought sarcastically to himself.

"Hey Al!" Ed called.

Alphonse turned to look at his brother who was merely a few feet away. Ed was facing the opposite way that Al was going. Then, Ed turned and caught sight of Al. He smiled in relief and followed his brother.

Al didn't say anything but carried on silently. He was beginning to wonder if it mattered if Ed knew about his plan. And, as each second passed, Al was coming less to caring.

Al always felt awkward in the cafeteria or whenever food was around. As a suit of armour, he didn't have to eat and, even after all these years, he still wasn't sure how to act. He knew his brother didn't care and didn't want him to put on the act of pretending to eat. But, there were others who couldn't understand that he couldn't eat, one in particular had been a little girl called Nina.

Ed sat opposite Al, his tray full of food. Contrary to stuffing his face, Ed was eating slowly, methodically. The look that Al had learnt to fear and hate was once again gracing Ed's face.

There was nothing particularly special about the look, more like an accumulation of several little things that made the look so worrying for Al. Ed's eyes would have the same intense focus as if he was reading an alchemy book, but there was also a mixture of confusion and irritation as well. His mouth was pursed and was constantly moving, as if he was chewing his lip.

Al looked away slightly and noticed that a few seats down from where he and Ed were sitting, Lieutenant Hawkeye was anxiously watching Edward's every move. As soon as she felt Al's gaze, she promptly returned to eating her meal. She kept sneaking a glance in their direction whenever she thought she could get away with it.

Looking the other way, Al saw Havoc, Fuery, Falman and Brosh eating a few seats up from them. The four officers were taking turns to watch the brothers, or more precisely, the elder brother.

_Obviously the colonel isn't convinced that Edward's fine either. I didn't expect him to order __**everyone**__ to keep an eye on him, though, _Al thought to himself.

When Al finally looked back to his brother, he saw that Ed had abandoned his meal and was avidly regarding his right arm. He was flexing his arm and clenching and unclenching his hand.

"Your arm again, Brother?" al asked.

"It doesn't feel..." Ed trailed off, turning his attention to his left leg. "My leg feels wrong too."

Al was more than aware that his brother's left leg and right arm was automail; he'd been outside the operating room when his friend Winry and her grandmother, Pinako, had installed Ed's automail. However, they had both said that if there was going to be any reaction to the prosthetic limbs, then it would have appeared soon after the operation.

Ed placed his left hand over his right. He then began tapping the automail gently as he brought his hand up his arm and towards his shoulder, checking the automail for abnormalities. When he reached his shoulder, his hand was still for a moment before he moved again, using his fingers to feel around where metal met flesh. He frowned at the end of his examination.

"What's wrong, Brother?" al asked, anxiousness entering his voice.

Ed ignored him and focused on his leg. This time, he started at the top of his leg and worked his way down. He stopped halfway down his thigh, where his automail leg started. After a quick inspection, Ed left his leg alone and once again took interest in his meal, ignoring the fact that it was stone cold.

Al couldn't miss the dark look on his brother's face. He wanted to question Ed, but didn't feel comfortable, especially with his brother's expression. It took a few moments for Al to get over that surprise, when he encountered another.

Ed had swapped his cutlery around. He was holding the knife in his left hand and the fork in his right. He seemed to be having difficulties with the instruments, but the look on his face refrained anyone from suggesting that he swap them around.

Then, quicker than lightening, Ed did something that no one expected or could have thought to prevent.


	3. Arising problems

Author's Note: Two uploads in one day?! Damn, I love the end of college (only two more days to go! ^_^). I've almost finished my written catch up. Chapter four has been partially written already, so expect it tomorrow when I get back home. That'll be afternoon time GMT.

Anyway, Enjoy!

_

* * *

_

Present...

"He did WHAT?!" Winry shrieked, her legs threatened to collapse.

"We were just as shocked as you are," Lieutenant Hawkeye mentioned.

"It scared the heck out of all of us," Al confided. "I'd never seen Edward like that."

"Then why didn't you call me five days ago?" Winry demanded, stopping to stare at the trio before her.

"What would have been the point?" Mustang asked her, a serious tone in his voice. "What would we have needed you for?"

"I- I guess you have a point," Winry quietly admitted.

"Alphonse, Lieutenant, would you continue your account," Mustang ordered gently.

"Sure," Al nodded as they set off again. "Well, Brother changed his grip on the knife and then went crazy."

"Who did he attack?" Winry asked fearfully.

"Himself," Hawkeye answered. "Or, more precisely, his automail."

_

* * *

_

5 days ago...

Al stared, unable to speak, at his brother. Most people on the table were staring at Edward. Everyone else was staring in his general direction, wondering who had just yelled like they'd been about to kill someone.

There was Edward, his left hand firmly grasping the handle of the knife that had been forcefully plunged into his right forearm. A look of utter shock was on his face as he pulled the knife out of his arm. His arms flittered further up his arm, and, as a frown formed on his brow, he let out another yell and stabbed himself higher up.

As the second attack occurred, Al snapped out of his stupor and felt fear fill what had been numb for only a few moments ago. He was afraid of his brother's next strike.

"Brother stop! What are you doing?!" he cried fearfully.

Again, Edward ignored him and turned his attention to his left leg. After dislodging the knife from his arm, he aimed for his knee.

By now, nearby officers has retreated to a safe distance. No one wanted to be near this clearly disturbed young man, and the fact that this young man was also a State Alchemist was ensuring that no one felt brave enough to stop.

However, there were four officers that were dumb enough to try and intervene. Three pairs of hands latched onto Edward while a fourth pair managed to tear the knife out of his grip. Now holding the weapon, Fuery stood back and allowed Havoc, Falman and Brosh to subdue the eldest Elric brother. While the trio had been expecting Edward to struggle, they weren't expecting what came out of his mouth.

"What have you done to me?! What did you do to my arm and leg?!" Ed shouted, straining against the three grown men who were trying to pin him.

"Brother, what are you doing?! Stop before someone gets hurt," Al pleaded. Had he been able to, he would have been crying.

"Al?!" Ed thrashed with more ferocity. "Where is he? Where's my brother?!"

It was at that moment that Havoc's grip slipped slightly, giving Edward the opening he wanted. He managed to grab Havoc and he pulled with all his might. The sudden movement caught Havoc off guard and he was sent sprawling onto the table top with a crack that did not sound good for the table.

Brosh and Falman knew what this would mean for them, but also, they knew they had no chance of escape. So, they tightened their grip on the alchemist, closed their eyes and waited for the storm to break on them. Sure enough, they felt their feet drag and then lift off the floor as Edward spun round, trying to dislodge them. A cry told Brosh that Falman had lost his grip and the several grunts of pain a second later told him who his colleague had collide with.

Then, there was a tearing sound as the sleeve of Edward's coat broke the thread that was connecting it to the rest of the coat. Brosh felt himself in midair before crashing into something very hard, which he rightly assumed was one of the benches by the tables. Still recovering from cracking his head against the bench, Brosh hesitantly opened his eyes, and immediately wished he hadn't.

There was Edward towering over him, for once. The young man's face was dark with anger, but Brosh couldn't help but feel that it was a front to hide Ed's confusion and fear. Ed leaned down and grabbed Brosh's collar with his left hand and raised his right arm so Brosh could see it clearly.

"You're gonna tell me where my brother is," Ed ordered in a deadly serious tone. "And then, you're going to give me back my arm and leg. You're going to agree to this before I count to three."

Brosh fearfully wondered what hitting the bench had done to him, for he couldn't speak and his body didn't want to obey any orders from his head. He was completely paralysed and mute; all he could do was stare at this deranged psychopath that had taken over Ed's body.

"One," Ed began his count, and waited for a non-existent response. "Two," he continued, moving his right arm up near his head, his hand closing into a fist.

Brosh was screaming for something, _**anything**_, to come to his rescue.

"Three!"

_Crack!_

Edward loosened his grip on Brosh, his eyes wide with shock. Then, as if the world had gone into slow motion, Edward collapsed, narrowly missing his head on the bench. Seeing him fall mobilised Brosh so he caught the boy. Wondering what had just happened, Brosh looked up.

There was Lieutenant Hawkeye standing over them. In her hand was her gun. From the position of her hand, Brosh easily realised that she'd hit Edward round the back of the head with her gun. Her face was blanched and she was trembling slightly.

"What's going on here?!" a familiar voice demanded.

A few seconds later, the crowd of officers parted and allowed someone to pass into the scene of insanity and destruction. Everyone shrank away at the sight of him, afraid of what might happen.

It was Colonel Mustang. At first, he looked exceptionally pissed off, thinking that this was a brawl between officers. Then, once he had taken in everyone who was involved, his expression changed to concern. Finally, once his mind had comprehended the Lt. Hawkeye, _his_ Lt. Hawkeye, was standing over Edward Elric, whom was currently unconscious, he felt his mind go blank with shock.

"What's going on here?" he asked again.

"It seems you were right, Colonel," Falman answered as he and several bystanders regained a standing position. "It seems Fullmetal isn't as fine as the doctors said he was."

"He- He attacked his automail with this, sir," Fuery continued, showing Mustang the knife, which was covered in motor fluid. "We decided to stop him before he did any real damage. He completely flipped out on us, sir."

Mustang didn't respond, but instead approached the benches. He saw Lt. Hawkeye hadn't moved since the struggle had ended. He gently laid a hand on her shoulder. He told himself not to take it to heart when the lieutenant flinched at his touch.

"I don't think he's going to get up any time soon, Lieutenant," Mustang noted, sadly missing a gentler tone.

"Yes sir," Hawkeye responded, holstering her gun.

"You did what you had to, Lieutenant," Mustang murmured quietly for her ears only. "No one will hold it against you."

Hawkeye didn't reply, but looked imploringly at the colonel. They stared at each other for a moment before Mustang closed his eyes and gave Hawkeye a supportive pat on the shoulder.

A groan caught Mustang's attention and he opened his eyes to focus on Lieutenant Havoc, who seemed to be contemplating whether or not he should make an attempt to move. The guy did seem to be in a lot of pain, and Mustang felt a considerable amount of pity for him.

"For someone so small, he's quite strong, isn't he?" Mustang joked lightly.

"I swear: I'm never gonna call him short again," Havoc moaned dramatically, joining in the joke. He saw Mustang's lip twitch into a slightly smile.

"All the same, I think you should stay put until a doctor gives you the O.K. That goes for you too, Brosh," Mustang ordered, inclining his head to the officer who was crumpled at his feet.

"Yes sir," the pair acknowledged gratefully.

Mustang then turned his attention to the last person involved in the carnage, who had disappeared from Brosh's side. With a quick glance around, he saw Edward lying in the protective arms of his brother, Al.

Mustang allowed himself a moment to wonder how Al had moved and retrieved his unconscious brother without him noticing, but decided that it didn't matter. With his musing over, he walked quietly over to the brothers.

He stopped short when Al raised his head. Despite being in a suit of armour, the emotions coming off the younger brother were unmistakable.

"Why?" Al whimpered broken-heartedly. "Why did he do this?"

"I don't know," Mustang admitted, kneeling down to look at Al. "If you can carry him to the hospital, I'll be damned if we don't find out."

_

* * *

_

4 days ago...

"I came as soon as I could," Major Armstrong reported to Colonel Mustang.

"And I'm grateful," Mustang replied honestly. "If there's a repeat of yesterday's performance, I need as many people as can handle him."

"How are Lieutenant Havoc and Second Lieutenant Brosh?" Armstrong inquired.

"Second Lieutenant Brosh has a concussion, and Lieutenant Havoc has some spinal injuries. They'll both be out of action for a while," Mustang explained.

Major Armstrong nodded reverently. He made a mental note to visit the pair when he had the chance. After all, a good bedside manner was a trait that had been passed down the Armstrong family from generation to generation.

"I shall visit them later," Armstrong announced. "But first, I will see to the Elric brothers."

Mustang nodded affirmatively. He patted Armstrong's bicep, being too short to reach the man's shoulder and walked away. He wanted a word with the man who was treating Ed.

Major Armstrong watched his superior's retreating back. When the colonel was gone, he breathed in and steeled himself for seeing the brothers. No one had given him specific details, only a vague account of the previous three days events, so he had no idea what to expect.

Calmly and slowly, he opened the door and walked into the room. He closed the door behind him.

The room was filled with a dim light; the blinds had been drawn to create twilight. Armstrong remained motionless as his eyes adjusted. Soon, shapes appeared from the darkness.

There was only one bed in the room, its occupant motionless, and beside it was a large figure, a suit of armour. AS Armstrong approached, Al looked up, but neither of them spoke. Finally, Armstrong stood beside Al and turned his attention to the person on the bed.

Ed was still, his eyes closed and his breathing was slow, rhythmic and normal. Someone had changed him into green, hospital scrubs and untied his hair. He was lying on his back, his arms lying by his sides. From his shoulders to his ankles, Ed was covered with thick, leather belt straps.

"They're there to stop Ed from hurting himself when he wakes up," Al explained quietly, sadly.

"I see," Armstrong replied before turning to Al. "Has he regained consciousness yet?"

"Yeah, a couple of times," Al answered. "When Ed first woke up, it was when the doctors were first seeing him. I guess it spooked him and he started to struggle."

"What happened?" Armstrong inquired, trying not to think about possible scenarios.

"Brother didn't get very far. They gave him an injection of something that would calm him down. He went back to sleep soon after," Al explained.

"And the second time?" Armstrong asked, looking back at Ed.

"He was only awake for a few seconds. He looked around the ceiling, me, and then went back to sleep," Al answered.

"Did he go to sleep straight after looking at you?" Armstrong asked.

"Yeah, I guess the medicine was still keeping him sleepy," Al admitted.

"How long ago did he wake up?"

"About an hour ago, why?" Al inquired.

"Then he should be awake in a few hours. Come, Alphonse, let us see what they are serving for lunch in the hospital cafeteria," Armstrong suggested jovially.

Alphonse did not reply, instead the sound of metal clashing against metal and metal making contact against porcelain tile echoed about the room. The footsteps quietened slightly as Al crossed the room and stopped. The handle was turned and the door opened. The footsteps continued for a few paces before stopping again. A second set of footsteps joined Al and the door creaked and closed with a click. The footsteps began once more and faded away.

Then, all was silent.

Ed opened one eye slightly and looked around. When he saw no one, he opened his eye further and, once positive that he was alone, he opened both eyes fully. He moved arm so he could rub the tiredness out of his face, and froze when he felt himself straining against something. He raised his head slightly so he could look down at his body and started when he saw the restraints.

The sound of approaching footsteps made Ed look up. He tried to look nonchalant, but wasn't sure how well he'd pulled it off. His expression didn't change as Major Armstrong walked up to him. The major stopped at the foot of the bed, watching Ed cautiously.

"That was pretty clever," Ed smirked maliciously, "Pretend that you left the room with that guy in the tin can and wait until I move. That's pretty good, I can't believe I didn't see it coming."

"That's your brother you're talking about," Armstrong stated factually.

"Yeah right!" Ed sneered. "And who are you pretending to be?"

Armstrong blinked in surprise. Of anything Ed could have said, he had not been expecting that. And, it wasn't just what Ed had said either, it was the meaning behind the words that shook the older man.

"Edward Elric, are you saying that you don't recognise me? Me, Alex Louis Armstrong, the Strong Arm Alchemist. Is that what you are telling me? And are you saying that you could not recognise your own brother?" Armstrong asked, his eyebrows raised high.

"Do you really expect me to believe that? I know Major Armstrong and I know what he looks like, " Ed retorted. " You are not Major Armstrong."


	4. Hitting the bottom

Author's note: College is now finished. Yipee! Now I can work on this when work's not calling me. I know I said I'd put this up yesterday, but distractions and a slight lapse of writter's block prevented that. By the time I was ready to write again, I was too tired. But, a day late is better than two. Enjoy!

_

* * *

_

4 days ago...

Twenty minutes passed, and Colonel Mustang, Major Armstrong and Ed's doctor were still talking in hushed voices. Every so often, one of them would look in Ed's direction through the open door. And, every time, they would find and angry, untrusting face glaring back at them.

Al was sitting on a bench outside his brother's room. He'd been shocked when Major Armstrong had revealed that Ed not only didn't recognise them, but was certain that they weren't who they were. Al knew, but didn't want to admit, that this was the reason why Ed had been acting so strangely before going completely psychotic in the cafeteria. What Al didn't know was why this had happened or why now.

"It could be stress," Al heard the doctor say. "But I highly doubt it. It could be something that was passed down to him by his parents, but from what I've been told, that's not possible."

"So, if it's not any of those things, what else could it be?" Mustang asked, failing to sound mildly concerned.

"Well, a probable cause would be some kind of disease that we're not aware of. Or, most likely, he's being affected by some recreational drug that's not breaking down in his body," the doctor answered with a shrug.

"That can't be it!" Al shouted angrily, rising from his seat. "I know my brother, and he would never do anything like that!"

Everyone was silent for a moment and stared at Al in surprise. He'd been a nervous wreck for the whole morning, and no one had thought he would be in any state to defend his brother's honour. But, then again, everyone has their breaking point.

"Relax, Alphonse," Lieutenant Hawkeye ordered soothingly, coming to the terrified doctor's rescue. "The doctor was only suggesting the Edward might be affected by drugs, not that he was willing taking them."

Al visibly deflated once Lieutenant Hawkeye had spoken, taking what she'd said to heart. Then, He straightened up; the lights in his helmet were bright with excitement.

"But, you can help it break down, like the second stage of alchemy, right?" Al asked hopefully.

"Hopefully," the doctor nodded to appease the young man. "We'll have to perform a few blood tests to determine what it is, and then we can formulate a treatment."

"That's good news indeed," Armstrong chimed jovially.

"Wait," Hawkeye interrupted. "Do you have to his blood already?"

"No, we'll have to draw enough for several vials," the doctor answered.

There was a sharp intake of breath from all the officers, all wincing at the thought.

"We'll come in with you," Mustang said.

"While I can appreciate you wanting to be there, Colonel, I'm afraid I can't allow such a request," the doctor shook his head.

"You misunderstand, Doctor," Hawkeye replied.

"Brother hates needles," Al explained.

"He may react violently," Armstrong continued.

"So," Mustang summed up. "It wasn't a request; we _are_ going in with you."

The doctor looked around and realised that he could not deny the colonel. Reluctantly, he nodded his head.

"Falman, Fuery," Mustang called to the two officers who had been hanging in the background. "Take up positions up the corridor. Lieutenant Hawkeye, remain here. The doctor, Major Armstrong, Alphonse and myself-"

"Uh, can I stay out here with the lieutenant?" Al asked quietly.

"Sure Al," Mustang nodded understandingly. "Alright, the doctor, Major Armstrong and I will go in. Let's pray nothing happens."

_

* * *

_

Present...

"So what happened?" Winry asked faintly, not daring to allow herself to imagine the countless horrendous possibilities.

"We took our positions, and the colonel went in," Hawkeye replied.

A bang echoed throughout the courtyard, causing even Hawkeye and Mustang to flinch. A new bulge had appeared in the side of the building.

"Looks like Ed's caught his breath," Hawkeye noted dispiritedly.

"Don't worry, Winry," Al assured the girl as her face fell. "Major Armstrong's keeping an eye on him."

"Fullmetal has hardly eaten and has barely slept," Mustang continued when her expression didn't change. "While he's still resisting our efforts, he doesn't have nearly as much persistence."

"He's pausing sooner and for longer," Hawkeye explained. "That means that he's coming closer to complete exhaustion."

"Which is good news for us," Mustang noted.

"And just how the hell is that good news?!" Winry demanded.

"It means he'll put up less of a fight than he did that day," Mustang replied.

_

* * *

_

4 days ago...

Ed glared at the three men surrounding him; Mustang and the doctor at his sides and Armstrong at his feet. At first everyone was still in the strained calm.

Then, the doctor pulled out a syringe.

Ed's eyes went wide with shock and fear. He struggled against his restraints. He could hear the leather creaking in protest of his efforts, which only instilled more determination in him.

"Take it easy, Fullmetal," Mustang ordered, holding down Ed's automail arm. "The doctor's only-"

_Snap! Crack! Thud._

Everyone froze, staring at Mustang who had landed on his ass on the floor. A red mark had already exploded on the right side of his face. He lifted a hand to his cheek, wincing at the touch.

It was then that everyone realised: Edward's automail arm had broken through the restraints. Before anyone could move, Ed brought his hands together and then touched the bed.

The bed shone from the alchemic reaction and the restraints broke away, leaving Ed free to move. But that was only the first part of the reaction. The broken leather wound itself around the terrified doctor and a stunned Major Armstrong. When the reaction was finished, neither could move.

Edward leapt off the bed, ignoring the pleas of those around him and raced desperately to the door. Once at the door, he bolted left, only to stop after two paces.

In front of him were Falman and Fuery. Both had an equal amount of shock on their faces. Reluctantly, they stepped towards him, moving slowly so as not to spook the already terrified teenager. Fuery slowly reached out with one hand.

"It's alright, Edward," he stated, noticing how timid he sounded.

However, Ed was not convinced. He turned around, ran past the door and stopped. This time, he was facing Alphonse and Lieutenant Hawkeye. Hawkeye had her gun trained on him with shaking hands.

Not once had she ever imagined this harrowing scenario.

"Please Edward," she begged. "Don't make me shoot you."

"Brother," Alphonse called quietly. "If you'd just take a breath and calm down, you'd know that we're only trying to help."

Unexpectedly, Edward did take a deep breath, exhaling calmly. He turned to look behind him to Falman and Fuery, who had advanced several paces towards him. Moving shadows in his room showed that Armstrong had released himself from the grip of the leather straps.

Ed turned back to glare at Alphonse.

"I know what you're doing: you're trying to act like my brother and people that I know," Ed hissed. "Well, you won't fool me!"

Ed clapped his hands together and lunged at the wall to his right. After an explosion that sent cracks across the entire wall, floor and ceiling, a man-sized hole appeared.

"Crap! He's using alchemy?!" Fuery cried out despairingly.

"Brother, don't!" Al cried futilely as Ed ran into the newly exposed room.

There was plenty of rubble lying on the floor and there were several people were sitting upright in their beds. Nothing but absolute horror was on those patients' faces as they stared at this violent intruder.

"We need to get him out of here before he hurts someone," Mustang muttered urgently to Armstrong.

At that moment, Ed spun round to shoot a dangerous glance at his brother, Colonel Mustang and his team.

"What's this?!" Ed barked. "You trying to make me think I'm in a hospital, or something?! Stop jerking me around!"

"We're not trying to make you think you're in a hospital, Brother," Al protested.

"You_ are_ in a hospital, Edward," Hawkeye insisted. "You're not well."

"I don't believe," Ed murmured.

He clapped his hands together and then touched his automail. It didn't transmute into the normal, simple wrist-mounted blade this time. This time, the whole forearm plate became a blade as well, with serrated edges.

It was enough to make everyone think twice about approaching him.

"Edward Elric," Armstrong began. "There is something inside you that is preventing you from recognising your friends and family. Allow the doctor to draw some blood so that they can find a way to help you."

"I..." Ed spoke uncertainly, shaking his head. "I don't believe you."

"Trust us, Edward," Mustang requested. "We're only concerned about your wellbeing."

"SHUT UP!" Ed shouted, charging at them.

Without warning, Al rushed forward. He collected his brother in a tight embrace, picked him up off the floor and kept on running. As he approached one of the full-sized windows, he turned to face inwards and went through the glass, putting his metal body between the razor sharp shards and his brother's vulnerable flesh.

Everyone rushed to the window, where Armstrong didn't hesitate to transmute a slope for everyone to safely descend three storeys. As everyone hurried to the bottom, no one could not look in horror as the brothers fell like a pair of lead balloons.

Al released Edward from his grip and watched his brother jump away from him. Both brothers landed on their feet, although Ed was only a tad more elegant about it. Al heard the sickening crunch and crack of metal under too much force to remain undamaged. Thankfully, the damage was only superficial, and not structurally compromising.

Ed walked a few paces before stopping. He looked around in a disoriented fashion. He hadn't noticed that the fall had knocked his arm plate/blade off his automail, and only realised Colonel Mustang's presence once he was five feet away.

"It's... This isn't Central," Ed stated in a small, shell-shocked voice. Where the hell did you take me?"

While Ed was waiting for Mustang to answer, he felt a slight prick on his left arm. He turned just in time to see Lieutenant Hawkeye jump back from him, a syringe in her hand with the plunger down.

As Ed stepped towards her, he lost his balance and stumbled. He saw her drop the syringe and dash forward, catching him before he hit the ground. Staring dazedly into her face, Ed felt the world go hazy and quiet. As everything started to darken, he heard her speak.

"That's the second time I've had to knock you out. Can we please not make it into a habit?" Hawkeye asked gently.

Ed didn't answer. His eyes rolled up and his head lolled back on her arm. His lids struggled to open in a vain attempt to remain conscious. Finally, his body went limp and relaxed as the sedative worked on his fatigued body.

"That was too close a call, sir" Hawkeye stated as Mustang approached the duo.

"Yes, I don't think we can risk letting him back into the building. Who knows what he'll do when he wakes up next time," Mustang agreed solemnly.

_

* * *

_

Present...

"As we couldn't trust him in the main building, we moved him to the building we're walking to," Mustang explained.

"It's far away from the general population so he won't be a danger to them, but close enough for us to get there quickly," Hawkeye finished.

"I see..." Winry replied sadly.

They had made three quarters of the way to the deformed building. Before them were two officers, who saluted Mustang and Hawkeye when they approached.

"Sir, Second Lieutenant Maria Ross, andSergeant Denny Brosh reporting in, sir!" the young woman replied.

"Anything new since we left?" Mustang asked with an unusual amount of lacklustre.

"Apart from the new addition to the decor?" Sergeant Brosh asked sarcastically, shrugging his shoulders. "Not much, I'm afraid, sir. We've heard a few bangs and crashes, but we haven't seen anyone. Major Armstrong would know more about the ins and outs of what's been going on, but we're not about to go near that place, with all due respect, sir."

"Understood," Mustang nodded solemnly, moving past the two guards.

Lieutenant Hawkeye, Al and Winry passed the couple without a word. Winry snuck a glance back to see them watching their group continue further.

"So, what happened after you moved him here?" Winry asked, returning to the pressing topic of getting up to speed with Edward's current condition.

"Not all that much different to what we've already told you, I'm afraid," Mustang replied nonchalantly.

"His actions got repetitive after a while: try to escape, yell insults at us, claim that we're not who we are. You get the basic idea?" Hawkeye asked wearily.

"The day before yesterday, Brother was really bad. He wouldn't stop transmuting anything he saw. He was doing everything to get out of there," Al explained. "That's when I told the colonel that we needed to call you."

_

* * *

_

32 hours ago...

"Colonel, his behaviour is getting worse; we won't be able to restrain him for much longer," Falman reported to the colonel outside the building.

"If it was just him, I don't think we'd have much of a problem, but his automail..." Fuery trailed off.

Al, who had been a short distance away, heard Fuery and quickly made his way to join the conversation. He had a thought that he wanted to share, and hoped that they'd listen to him.

"Colonel, why don't you have his automail disabled?" Al suggested.

Mustang looked at Al in surprise. While he had been considering that as a possible measure to rein in the boy's out of control brother, he hadn't expected Al to mention it.

"I think I may have no choice but to remove it," Mustang admitted, earning him a shake of Al's helmet.

"You can't remove it!" Al protested. "It'll freak him out and it'll hurt him!"

"But Al," Fuery interjected before Mustang could speak. "Didn't you just say it had to be removed?"

"No, not remove it, just disable it. If you did that to his leg as well, then he won't be able to break out of any restraints," Al explained, deciding not to mention that Ed could perform normal alchemy.

"And if he does break out again, he'll be easier to apprehend," Falman added cheerfully, liking this half-formulated plan already.

"I can call Winry and ask her to do it," Al stated, growing more confident on Falman's eagerness.

Mustang didn't return a comment. He frowned thoughtfully and walked a few paces away from the conversation. The last thing he wanted was to involve someone else, a civilian, in this mess. But, he had to admit that Ed's mechanic would know how best to disable the automail without breaking it.

"Just ask her to come over, Alphonse," Mustang ordered as he turned back to face them. "Don't tell her of anything that's happened; we can explain the situation to her once she gets here, and any information will simply upset her."

"Yes sir!" Al agreed eagerly, nodding in appreciation.

"Isn't it a bit late to call her now?" Fuery asked quietly, not wanting to put a dampener on the uplifted mood.

"Y- Yeah, I guess you're right. I'll call her first thing in the morning," Al announced.

"First thing in the morning then," Mustang agreed, praying that waiting wasn't going to make the problem worse.


	5. In the storm's eye

Author's note: This is the last chapter with flashbacks, and I'm actually kinda sad. They were fun to write. Anyway, enjoy!

_

* * *

_

20 hours ago...

The phone rang six times before someone answered. Al had been nervous about using the phone, unsure as to how well he would be heard on the end.

"_Hello, Rockbell Automail?"_ Pinako's voice rang clear.

"Umm, Granny? It's me," Al said, feeling foolish that he had no idea what to say.

"_Al? My, my... this is a surprise. Usually it's Ed calling to say that he's broken his automail. Is everything alright?"_

"Uh!" Al squeaked in alarm. "No, I mean yes, I mean... it's nothing like that! Brother just can't get to the phone right now, so I'm calling for him. That's all," Al explained frantically, knowing how well he'd screwed that up.

"_I see..."_ Pinako commented sceptically.

"Is Winry there?" Al asked, hopeful to be speaking to someone less intuitive, not that Winry wasn't intuitive.

"_Sure, one moment. Winry!"_ Pinako called away from the phone. _"Here she comes,"_ she stated after a moment.

* * *

"Winry!" called Granny Pinako from the stairs.

Winry looked up from the automail wires that she'd been sorting. She put the wires down and followed her grandmother's call. She saw the woman with the phone in her hand and began to mutter.

"I swear, if that's Ed saying he broke my automail again," she threatened as she approached her grandmother.

"Here she comes," Pinako spoke into the phone before handing it over to Winry.

Winry watched the older woman walk outside, pipe in mouth. Obviously Pinako was going out to smoke again. Winry then turned her attention to the phone.

"Hello?" she ventured.

"_Winry, it's Al,"_ an unsure voice replied.

"Al?!" Winry repeated her friend's name, a thousand worrisome thoughts running through her head. "Why are _you_ calling me? Ed's hurt, and you're calling 'cause he can't, that's it, isn't it?!"

"_No, no, Winry, it's nothing like that,"_ Al assured her nervously. _"He's not hurt, honest!"_

"But he can't come to the phone, can he?" she pouted, forgetting that Al couldn't see her.

"_Well... no,"_ Al admitted uncomfortably. _"Winry, could you get to Central Hospital as soon as you can? Ed's automail needs some tweaking."_

"'Tweaking'?" Winry echoed. "You mean he hasn't actually broken them?"

"_No, they're not broken. It's just, they need a few... adjustments. That's all, nothing serious,_" Al promised.

"Has he shot up by a foot, or is it more for performance?" Winry asked. If Al agreed to the former, she would have to go to Central just to see Ed being taller with her own eyes.

"_Performance,"_ Al answered. _"Please Winry, we really need you here."_

"_Alphonse!"_ a strange voice shouted in the background of the Al's line. They were obviously upset about something.

"_Winry, I have to go now. Please say you'll come,"_ Al pleaded.

"Of course I'm coming," she replied shocked that Al even thought that he had to ask. "What's going on, Al?"

"_Brother!"_ she heard Al call before he realised that he was still on the phone to her. _"Uh, thanks for this Winry. Bye-"_ and then the phone went dead.

"Al? Al!" Winry shouted into the receiver, ignoring the buzzing sound that told her that the connection was lost.

Eventually, she put the phone back down.

"So, I take it you're going down there," Pinako commented, not appearing to be disturbed by the phone call in the slightest.

"Something's wrong with Ed, Granny," Winry replied, as if that fact was enough of answer.

"So what else is new? The only time we hear from them is when something's wrong," Pinako stated with a shrug.

"I think this is different, Granny. Al was really nervous, and I don't think he was telling the truth when he said it was nothing serious. I think something's really wrong this time," Winry whispered, trying to tell her body to stop shaking.

"Then you'd better get to Central as soon as possible," Pinako noted, a concerned frown on her face.

Winry didn't speak. Instead, she ran upstairs to grab her tools. She collected several spare parts, a dozen wires and a few plates and stuffed them into her bag along with her tools, including the wrench that Ed had bought for her.

She packed a set of spare clothes and left for the station. She was on her way to Central by midday.

_

* * *

_

Present...

"And that's it up 'til now," Al summed up.

"You're up to speed with the situation," Mustang announced.

Winry frowned as she took in all that the trio had told her. She could understand why they hadn't wanted her to know before now. If she had known this on the train ride, she would have been pulling out her hair out with worry.

"So..." she began, stopping to clear her throat when she realised when her voice was so unsteady. "You want me to disable his automail."

"That's right," Mustang confirmed, though Winry hadn't raised a question. "We thought it would be easier to have you do it as you know the automail."

Winry numbly noticed that Mustang hadn't mentioned that she also knew the young man who the automail was attached to. But she then realised that, in this state, she had no idea what to expect from him. The automail was going to be the same, but she was about to meet a total stranger in Ed's form. The thought was surreal and terrifying.

"Are you ready?" Hawkeye asked quietly, placing a supportive hand on Winry's arm.

Afraid of what she might say, Winry forced her lips to remain closed. She took in a deep breath, swallowed the lump that was settling in her throat, and exhaled. She told herself that she was breathing out all of her uncertainties and was replacing them with rock solid resolve.

She nodded, not focusing on the people around her, but on the door that they were about to open. She dared not turn away, doubting that she'd have the strength to face it again if she turned away. She waited patiently for someone to open the door.

Mustang saw that Winry was not interested in doing anything but achieving what she had come here to do. He sighed, and reached out to the door handle. He saw Winry tense up, and he waited for her to relax before opening the door.

No one was in sight when they entered the corridor. But, the distortions that encased the whole area were proof enough that Edward had very nearly managed to escape. Winry looked fearfully down each way, wondering if her childhood friend would suddenly leap out at them and attack them.

"It shouldn't be too hard to find them," Mustang stated as he looked around.

At that moment, a crash echoed from two storeys above them. The muffled sounds of shouting and screaming could be heard; the voice was far too recognisable for Winry. She gasped involuntarily and stepped back, only to bump into Alphonse. He had been standing right behind her, anticipating this reaction.

"It's okay, Winry," Al promised soothingly, gently rubbing her shoulders.

"He's only tiring himself out by fighting," Mustang stated. "It'll make him easier to subdue, though. Our only task is to prevent him from hurting himself or anyone else."

"Shall we find them, sir?" Hawkeye suggested.

"Certainly, led the way Lieutenant," Mustang ordered.

Hawkeye stepped forward and began to approach the stairs. She held the demeanour of a soldier waiting for trouble, her hand resting hesitantly on her gun. Her eyes darted to all areas, ensuring that there was no danger, before stepping forwards.

Mustang took up Hawkeye's position at the rear. He was also on high alert, as if he was expecting war to drop right in front of him in a moment's notice.

However, Winry was finding it not hard to believe that the threat was that great. It chilled her straight through that they were acting like this because of Edward's action. However, she could not understand why Colonel Mustang and Lieutenant Hawkeye had swapped positions.

"It more likely that Brother will show up once we've passed him," Al explained to Winry's perplexed expression.

While she was glad to know the reason, it didn't stop her from blanching. All of a sudden, she was wondering if they could go back to the door so she could pick up the rock solid resolve that she must have dropped. This was turning out to be much more terrifying than she had originally thought. It wasn't just one factor either. The anticipation, the fearful wonderings of how bad Edward really was, the tight-lipped silence of those around her... it was all starting to pick at her already frayed nerves.

They cautiously made their way up to flights of stairs and moved into another corridor, one as equally mangled as the one they had just come from. They stood still as the military officers surveyed the surrounding area. Alphonse stepped forward, leaving Winry feeling exposed and vulnerable.

"I think Brother was just here," Al announced as he looked back at them. "These deformations are new, I can see everything's still settling into its new shape."

"Any idea which way he went?" Hawkeye asked apprehensively.

"H-How about to our right?!" Winry stuttered, slowly raising her hand to point at a figure that had just raced round the corner.

There was no doubt that it was Edward. As soon as he'd seen them, he froze. He was wearing unkempt green hospital scrubs, and he wasn't wearing any shoes. He'd managed to find a band to pull his long blond hair into a rough ponytail, with only his fringe flopping over his face. He pushed the strands away so he could see them without the veil of hair.

Even this far away, twenty feet away, Winry could see something was wrong with him. Looking at his face, she saw what it was.

Startled, Winry gasped and recoiled until she felt someone holding onto her shoulders. She willed the person's courage would flow into her and make her strong enough to withstand this encounter. She couldn't turn away, she couldn't do anything but stare at this person, this strange ghost of her friend. She could feel tears running freely and uncontrollably down her face.

It was his eyes. They glared at her with a look of anger and mistrust that she had never seen, but that was not what was paralysing her, not what was making the tears fall from her eyes. Those eyes, those beautiful golden eyes, were dark. Those beautiful golden eyes had not lost their fire, but had lost the shine that she had always adored.

Those beautiful golden eyes had turned into a murky copper.

"Winry, you have to stay calm," Mustang instructed quietly in her ear. "Don't make any sudden moves."

"Careful, sir," Hawkeye warned. "Edward's watching you with extreme scrutiny."

Sure enough, Ed was watching them, his eyes narrowed with mistrust. He only gave Alphonse and Hawkeye second glances. His main attention was Winry, and how Mustang was holding her. It was clear that he couldn't recognise a single one of them as friends, and it was also obvious that he thought that Mustang was handling Winry improperly.

Not as a protective gentleman, no... He was a predator holding a young woman hostage. Such a low tactic, it made Ed's blood boil. He didn't recognise the woman, but he still wanted to protect her, keep her safe.

So consumed in this new event, Ed was oblivious to Major Armstrong slowly poking his head round the corner to see what had happened. It only took two seconds for the man to realise what had happened and what conclusion Ed had come up with. He nodded slowly to Colonel Mustang, hoping his superior understood his idea.

"Winry," Mustang whispered into her ear, careful to make sure Ed didn't hear him, or could not attempt to lip-read. "I promise you that you won't get hurt. I need you to do something for me, do you feel up to it? Blink twice."

Winry gulped, released the breath she hadn't been aware she'd been holding. Slowly, she blinked... and then blinked again.

"We're going to start stepping back in a moment. I want you to follow me for a few paces, and then, I want you to start struggling. Struggle for a few seconds and then scream. Don't say his name, just call for help. Are you ready?"

There was a slight pause as Winry took time to understand what it was that Mustang wanted her to do. He wanted her to act like a helpless maiden who was being used as a human shield, where all she could do was scream. It touched too close to that evening all those years ago when she and Ed had been at the mercy of Barry the Chopper. But she reasoned that the colonel must know what he was doing. Breathing in to set herself in a helpful mindset, she blinked twice.

She instantly felt pressure on her shoulders as Mustang started pulling her backwards. She did as she'd been instructed, following his lead. Then, after three steps, she started to pull against Mustang's grip. She could feel him moving her from side to side, emphasising the effect that she was trying to escape. She breathed in and, after quickly counting to ten, she let out a scream. She put all of her fears, all the emotion that she'd kept bottled up since she'd walked through the hospital doors, into that scream. It was all she could do without falling into flat-out panic.

"HELP! HELP ME!" she shrieked, leaning away from Mustang.

The impact was instantaneous on Ed. His face fell into utter rage. His hands clenched into fists. Then, like a bullet from a gun, he bolted towards Mustang. Everyone else had become unimportant, getting Winry away from Mustang was Ed's only goal.

"Let go of her!" Ed yelled as he drew near to Mustang, bringing his automail arm back.

Mustang moved just in time to avoid getting knocked out cold as Ed released his fist towards the colonel. Mustang let go of Winry and allowed himself to fall to the floor, spinning round as he did so that the cheek Ed had just 'hit' was pressed against the floor.

Winry fell forwards, only just catching herself in time. She looked up to see Ed swing a kick at Hawkeye, who fell as gracefully as a well-practised actress. It was easy to see that neither she nor Mustang had been hurt, but had only pretended to be to lure Ed into a false sense of security, thinking that Winry's 'attackers' were out for the count.

At that moment, Ed turned to her. His eyes still screamed anger, but it wasn't directed towards her. Slowly, his expression softened and concern became the main emotion on his face.

"Are you okay?" he asked, stretching out a hand.

Winry didn't have a chance to even decide whether to shy away or take his hand. A second later, Ed was hurled away from her. Winry looked to her left to understand what had happened.

Ed had been pinned against the wall by his brother. Major Armstrong had joined in the struggle, wrestling with Ed's automail arm. Colonel Mustang and Lieutenant Hawkeye had leapt off the floor and were straining against his legs and other arm respectively. Despite the amount of thrashing, Ed was completely immobilised.

"Winry, now!" Al yelled, fighting to keep his brother still without hurting him.

Winry was instantly on her feet. She delved into her bag and brought out a screwdriver and her favourite wrench and rushed to Ed's arm. She decided that it would be best to disable the arm first. She quickly removed the top plate and began to loosen the connections between his nerves and the automail. Confident that they would sever, she replaced the screwdriver with the wrench. As she gripped the wrench, she caught Ed's eyes, confused and angry.

"I'm sorry, Ed," she apologised before pushing the wrench up, breaking the connections and disabling the automail.

Ed yelped in surprise and pain. He struggled all the more when Winry turned her attention to his leg. He couldn't help but watch her prepare the automail for the disconnection.

"Bitch," Ed hissed as she brought in the wrench.

Winry froze for a moment, shocked at what he'd just said to her. Then, she shut the word and pulled on the wrench. She blocked out his second cry of pain and stepped back and out of everyone's way. She numbly saw everyone step away from Ed, catching him as he fell. She dazedly watched Ed fight to stand on his own, and use his now useless metal limbs. She was still as Armstrong carried the distraught young man away, probably to be restrained. She was only vaguely aware of Ed's curses as they faded away into the distance.

Lieutenant Hawkeye saw how motionless Winry was, and gently held onto the girl's shoulders. At the pressure, Winry's legs failed her and she collapsed. Hawkeye went down with her, preventing Winry from hurting herself on the hard surface. The small sobs broke out into a full blown emotional breakdown.

Winry clung to Hawkeye's sleeve, burying her face in the lieutenant's shoulder. All the shock, despair and terror all came gushing out from the tiny box that she'd somehow managed to stuff the emotions in. She shook uncontrollably as her cries echoed in the otherwise quiet corridor.

"He didn't mean it, Miss Rockbell," Hawkeye murmured soothingly, stroking Winry's head with her free hand. "He was saying it to a stranger, not to you. He doesn't recognise anyone. He didn't mean it."

"What..." Winry asked as she gulped for air. "His eyes... are so different. What happened to his eyes? What happened to his eyes?"

Lieutenant Hawkeye looked up to Colonel Mustang in surprise, and he mirrored her expression. Neither of them had noticed.


	6. The fire that burns cold

Author's note: Now that the flashbacks are finished, I'm going to be shifting from neutral 3rd person narrative, to Ed's POV 3rd person narrative (if you didn't understand that, you will after this chapter).

**PLEASE READ!!**There is a part in this chapter that is not for the squeamish, as it contains needles (and we all know how much Ed likes them). It's during Ed's POV, just so you're forewarned.

Enjoy!

* * *

Winry stared avidly into the cup. Al had given her the tea not long ago, and she'd been grateful to have the friendly substance warming and soothing her from the inside out. She'd already drunk half, and was watching the dregs swirl around the bottom as she agitated the cup.

She was a lot calmer than she had been a few hours ago, not at ease, just calm. She attributed her serenity to the tea she was drinking, the blanket that was draped across her shoulders and the fact that she hadn't heard anything of Edward's antics. Although silence was just as worrying as noise, she kept telling herself that no news was good news.

"Is it strong enough?" Al asked, breaking her reflection.

"Huh?" she asked dazedly.

"The tea, is it alright?" Al explained patiently, realising that she hadn't been paying attention to anything.

"Oh, yeah, it's fine. Thanks Al," Winry replied, smiling weakly.

She raised the cup to lips and let the warm liquid flow down her throat. She swallowed and placed the empty cup by her side. She then turned to watch Al.

He was drawing transmutation circles on the floor, walls and ceiling. He would then activate them one at a time. Slowly, but surely, the corridor started to look like a corridor again, rather than the distorted world of a psychologically impaired young man. Al looked up from his work.

"I have to do this Winry," Al answered to her unspoken question. "It's really my fault that any of this happened."

"How do you figure that, Al?" Winry queried.

"I was there. I was in the library. I could have done something. I _should_ have done something," Al explained.

"What could you have done, Al? There's no way you could have known any of this was going to happen," Winry assured him.

"I saw that the bookcase was going to explode. Brother wasn't going to move, so I should have made him move," Al insisted, guilt flooding his tone.

"Al-"

A set of footsteps made her turn her head.

It was Colonel Mustang. He walked up to the window and stared out. He closed his eyes and raised a gloved hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. His eyebrows fell slightly as he frowned. A pained, tired expression formed on the colonel's features. He sighed in frustration.

"Colonel?" Al asked concernedly.

Mustang looked over to the two teenagers. His face fell into a reluctant neutral expression, a weary, half-hearted smile on his lips. He sighed again, more quietly this time, however not quietly enough for Winry not to hear him.

"Is everything okay?" she asked timidly.

"Did the doctor get the blood samples he needed?" Al added hopefully.

"Not a chance," Mustang admitted sadly, shaking his head. "He's restrained, his automail's been disabled, and his still struggling. The doctor says that as long as Fullmetal won't settle, he's not going near him with a needle, says it'll break the needle and probably hurt him in the process."

"Brother's never liked needles," Al stated. "I guess he won't like it any more now that he can't recognise any of us."

"I remember," Winry mentioned softly, smiling reminiscently. "I remember when we were kids, Ed always had to be dragged to clinic."

She chuckled tenderly at the thought. She heard Alphonse giggle as well, remembering all the times he'd had to look back to watch his mother drag Edward by the hand to the clinic. Ed had always dragged his feet and clawed at the door whenever he had to have an injection. Al would be finished in two minutes, and would get a sweet for being so good, while Ed would often take ten to fifteen minutes just for one shot.

"I remember," Al agreed, laughing lightly. "You were there too, Winry. You would always tease Brother for being such a stubborn coward."

Mustang's smile grew slightly, enjoying the light-hearted moment. He stored the memory away, making sure he could recall every little detail for irking Edward when this was all over. However, the situation could not be forgotten. He still needed to think of a way to persuade the defiant young man to allow the doctor to take some blood.

"Hey, all you need is to take some blood, right?" Winry asked, bringing Mustang out of his musing.

"Right," Mustang confirmed. "We need to find a way to keep him still long enough for that, though."

Winry pursed her lips in a thoughtful pose. Then, with great deliberation, she removed the blanket from around her shoulders and laid it on the floor. She stood up and approached Mustang.

"I have an idea," she proclaimed confidently.

* * *

Ed was watching the trio very carefully. He didn't like how the leader and the girl had called the so-called doctor over. He liked the way they were talking even less. He didn't trust them at all, especially the girl. He recognised her as the one who had pretended to be a victim, like him, only to find out that she was one of them. She had disabled the arm and leg that they had given him, obviously they had realised that they couldn't control him like they had hoped. Maybe she'd been the one who'd replaced his limbs.

The fake doctor was nodding to the leader and the girl. They'd finally come up with a new method to try and inject him with some horrid substance. He was certain that it was to befuddle his mind, maybe to somehow lower his convictions, make him more inclined to believe their lies. They were no doubt trying to make him believe that they were friends of his.

He was beginning to pick up who these people were trying to pretend to be. He was amused at their attempts, though, and doubted that they had done any research into the people they were imitating. Only the one who was in the cheap armour suit put on a half-decent act, but even that was full of flaws.

What bothered him was how they'd managed to take him out of Central and away from anything he could recognise. He didn't even have a clue on which way he'd have to go to get back to Central. He would have to wait for them to let him go.

But, what would they let him go to do? Would they make him carry on with his search for the Philosopher's Stone with the fake Al, and make him bring it back to them? It was obvious that they'd have to be careful with him, if he saw anyone he knew, then all their work would come undone. That was obviously why they'd taken him out of Central; he knew it too well. There were also too many people who would recognise him in Central, which was another risk for them.

He focused on the girl, who had brought up a chair and sat beside him. She looked at him with a condescending look.

"I hear you haven't let the doctor take your blood," she stated.

"You're not interested in my blood," he retorted.

"Of course, we are. What do you think the empty vials are for?" she asked.

Ed didn't answer. He refused to give them the chance to dupe him. While they looked empty, he couldn't be sure. This girl had fooled him once, he wasn't prepared to give her a second chance.

"Oh, you are an absolute idiot, Edward!" the girl sighed in fake exasperation. "Do you need a damn demonstration?!"

She didn't wait for his reply. She took off her jacket and exposed her pale skin. She showed him the many different hypodermic needles and vials.

"It's your choice Edward. Pick a needle and vial, and the doctor will put them in me," she explained in an irritated tone.

Ed stared at her. He had not been expecting that. It was obvious that she wasn't worried about whichever instrument he chose, nor was anyone else for that matter. That wouldn't make any sense, unless they really were just taking his blood. But he couldn't explain why they would want his blood, except to further delve into this deception. They could explain that there was something in his blood that was making it impossible for him to recognise them, and then they could say that they were giving him something to help with that.

"Edward?" the girl interrupted his thoughts.

He snapped to the present, and the simple task of choosing something for them to put in her arm. If they thought that by showing willingness to go through the same procedure would make him go through with it without needing them to prove it was safe, they would be disappointed.

"Needle: second from the right," Ed instructed, unable to point. "Vial: fourth from the left."

The girl carefully picked up the pieces he'd instructed. She held them while the fake doctor put the tray aside. She was still as the needle went into her arm and she only barely flinched, hissing at the tiny amount of pain, when the vial was attached. Sure enough, the life-giving red liquid flowed into the little glass vial like it was being pulled in there by a gravitational force.

Soon, the vial was full. The doctor took it out and then brought a cotton ball to where the needle pierced the skin. He instructed the girl to place pressure on the ball, and then he proceeded to pull the needle out. He placed the thing in a biological disposal bag and sealed it.

Soon, everyone was still and silent. They were looking at him expectantly.

"Are you satisfied, or does someone else have to take a needle?" the girl asked.

Ed was silent for a moment, watching her face. He was looking for some sense of doubt, but he was disappointed to find none. Finally, he sighed in defeat and nodded. It really did seem like all they were doing was getting some of his blood.

"Needle: first on the left," Ed stated nonchalantly, trying not to sound resigned.

The doctor took the needle, and approached Ed's arm. He could feel himself tensing up, but forced himself to remain still. He was aware that thrashing would only break the thing and that would only hurt him more.

The accursed object hovered above his arm for a moment before breaking the skin, plunging deeper into him. The pain was minimal, he had to admit, but he could feel his panic rising, fighting against the self-control that was keeping him still. The vial approached and connected to the end of the needle. Instantly, his blood came rushing out of him and into the tiny glass.

As he felt his panic increase all the more, he closed his eyes and held his breath. His left hand suddenly went numb, and Ed hit breaking point.

"It's almost over, Ed," a voice called soothingly to him.

He could feel a hand on his shoulder, gently rubbing the tension out of that area.

"Just hold on a little longer, I promise," the voice assured him, that... familiar voice. "It's gone, Ed. The needle's out."

"Winry...?" Ed asked as he opened his eyes.

She smiled, but the smile fell as Ed's own did. It was just the girl, the one who'd tricked him earlier. She wasn't Winry, but she'd comforted him in a voice so much like hers. What had they done to him when his eyes had been closed? Or, had he only heard Winry's voice because he so desperately wanted to hear a friendly voice?

The girl didn't speak, but instead bit her lip. She stepped back as he glared at her, which made him feel slightly better. At least _she _was respecting his personal boundaries, which was considerably more than if he'd been around friends.

He didn't stop glaring until only one was left in the room, the large one who was pretending to be Major Armstrong. While the guy was bulky like the Major, that was where the similarities ended.

* * *

"That was good thinking Miss Rockbell," Mustang praised, which earned him a slight blush from the woman in question. "Is it enough, Doctor?" he asked, turning to the man.

"I'm afraid it's not nearly enough," the man admitted unenthusiastically. "I can certainly perform several tests with what we've obtained now, but I need at least three more vials, and that's pushing it."

Mustang sighed, unhappy at the news that they would have to repeat this exercise three more times if they were lucky, even more if they weren't. He'd seen how close Edward had been to losing it, and probably would have freaked out if Winry hadn't soothed and comforted him at the last minute.

It had surprised all of them when he'd said her name, but the joy of the moment had been shattered the second he opened his eyes. It was apparent that he couldn't recognise them by face, but that didn't seem to be the case if he only had their voices.

"Do you think that dust could have done this to him?" Winry asked openly, hoping that someone would have an answer for her, and not caring who gave it.

"I'm afraid that's impossible, Miss Rockbell," the doctor replied sadly. "Dust is just that: dust. It consists of dead skin cells, hair, and paper fibres, just to name a few things. Dust is completely harmless. It wouldn't be able to do anything like this, I'm afraid."

"So... dust couldn't do something like, change eye colour?" Winry queried.

"No my dear, dust can't do that. And, there are very few drugs that could do that, either. Why do you ask?"

"Fullmetal's eye colour has changed," Mustang explained.

"Well, that's useful to know," the doctor nodded. "That will lower the number of tests we'll have to perform."

"Will you still need more vials, though?" Hawkeye asked from over Mustang's shoulder.

"Yes, but I think I'll only need one more," the man replied.

"Well, one more is better than three," Mustang sighed in relief. "We could probably persuade him to give us that much in a day or so."

"Very well then, Colonel," the doctor answered. "I'll come back in two days."

"Thank you Doctor," Mustang murmured as the man departed.

Mustang and Hawkeye then turned to set up a watch routine with Armstrong, leaving Winry and Al alone in the corridor. The pair stood there silently, awkwardly, for a moment.

"Hey Winry, your parents were doctors. What do they do with the blood after all the tests?"

Winry looked at Al in surprise. She had no idea where Al was going with the question, and wondered if it was simply idle curiosity that was making him ask. However, she had a nasty feeling that that wasn't the case.

"Umm, I don't know, I never asked," she replied honestly. "I guess they'd destroy it. My dad once said that there could be really nasty stuff in blood, so you had to be careful with it. It makes sense that they depose of it though, I mean, they can't really put it back."

"They'll dispose of your blood, won't they? I mean, they won't even check it, right?"

"Why would they, Al? I'm not the one their interested in," Winry asked.

"The tests... they can tell you all sorts of things, right?"

"Uh, yeah," she replied, baffled by his questions. "But, I'm not a doctor, Al, and these are all really the kind of things that doctor would have been able to tell you. Why are you asking, anyway?"

"What you did in there... with Ed... Mother did that once," Al explained. "I was just wondering what the doctors would have done with Mom's blood. They wouldn't have run tests on it 'cause she wasn't the one they were interested in. But..."

"But what, Al?" Winry frowned, not liking where the conversation was going.

"What if they had run tests on her blood? Would they have found out what was wrong with her?" Al asked rhetorically.

Winry felt her stomach plummet. She had taken inspiration from that time to help Ed, but she hadn't thought about what effect that might have on the two of them. She cursed her own stupidity, and found that she had no idea what to say. But she knew that she had to say something.

"I guess there's no point wondering about it now," Al stated with a sigh. "It's not going to make any difference."

Winry didn't speak. She looked down, unsure of whether she should leave and give Al some privacy, or whether she should say something to perk him up. But, under the circumstances, she wasn't sure how to achieve the latter, and so she chose the former. She quietly started walking, pausing when she passed him. She laid a hand on his armoured arm before continuing.

As she began to descend the stairs, Al looked over in the direction of the stairwell.

"Thanks for everything Winry," he murmured quietly to the vacant corridor.


	7. A glimmer of hope

Authour's note: This one is slightly shorter than the others, but I think I left it on a good note.

I'm glad everyone is enjoying this so far, and this story is about to turn into my longest story (chapter-wise anyway), yippee for me! I'd like to thank theretard5892 for reviewing every chapter, starfruit-22, Very Swampeh, bookwormally and fma-43 for reviewing every chapter after they've found my story (at least that's what I believe). I love you guys! ^_^

* * *

Mustang looked at the dark brown liquid with revulsion and reluctance. It was his sixth cup of coffee that morning, and worse, it was hospital coffee. Even the military didn't torture its staff with this quality, but he didn't trust the situation well enough to back to HQ. Also, he wasn't sure how such a stunt would look to his subordinates, or the people up top. So, he held his breath and downed the drink.

"You know, sir, coffee is said to increase blood pressure and cause insomnia," Hawkeye stated nonchalantly over the newspaper she was reading.

"Fullmetal's already beaten it in that regard," he replied sarcastically, pouring himself a seventh cup.

Hawkeye looked up, the paper crumpling slightly as she lowered it to see her superior better. The man didn't look as if he'd had much sleep, and she had a feeling that his hair had not met a comb on this particular morning, nor had his clothes met an iron.

She sighed wearily before straightening the paper. As she was trying to find her place, she realised that she hadn't had one. She'd just been staring at the words with none of them going in. She sighed again in resignation and folded the paper up.

"Nothing of interest?" Mustang asked conversationally.

"Not really, some things are more important than what you read in the paper," she replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

Mustang nodded in agreement. He raised the cup to his lips and drank the coffee. He shuddered involuntarily after swallowing, trying not to let the coffee get to him. As he looked down into the half-drained cup, he realised that he could not drink any more of it and put the cup down.

"I wonder if Edward has eaten his breakfast," Mustang mused.

"I believe Miss Rockbell is serving him," Hawkeye commented.

"I would like to see that," Mustang quipped with a devious smile.

* * *

Ed was staring at the ceiling; he had nothing better to do. He had no desire to speak to any of his captors, it gave them too much of a chance to fool him. And, it seemed that they have given up trying to strike up a conversation with him, which he was grateful for. But, he had to admit, the silence was starting to get to him.

He was still being watched by the burly man who pretended to be Major Armstrong, and he was certain that the shifts were going to change over soon. Depending on who the person was pretending to be, he might talk to them for a few minutes. But then again, he wasn't sure if he wanted to risk hearing whatever new lies they'd come up with.

From the corner of his eye, Ed saw the fake major turned his head to the door, and then walk over to it. As Ed followed, he saw that someone was struggling to turn the handle. The fake Armstrong opened the door and, after a moment, stepped back to let the newcomer in.

Ed looked back up at the ceiling once he saw who it was. It was the girl who'd tricked him and the same one he'd mistaken for Winry. He admitted that she was blonde and had blue eyes like Winry, but he knew that she wasn't his mechanic. He didn't stop staring at the ceiling when the girl stood beside him.

"I brought your breakfast, Edward," she told him, a fake cheerfulness in her voice.

As he breathed in, he could smell pancakes with syrup, his favourite. He felt his mouth fill with saliva and his stomach growled. He couldn't remember when he'd last eaten a good meal rather than a desperate mouthful. In spite of wanting to put across an uncaring front, he bit his lip longingly.

The girl smiled, obviously happy that she'd hit the target. She stood there, waiting patiently for him. Her eyes bore into him until he finally turned to look at her.

"You're pretending to be Winry, aren't you?" he asked, hoping to catch her off-guard.

Her smile dropped and sadness entered her eyes, leaving Ed feeling triumphant. He'd picked up another act and seen through it.

"I am Winry, Ed," the fake Winry insisted, imitated pain in her eyes.

Ed took a moment to look at her. She looked new to this deception business, and uncertain as to how to lie. It gave Ed an idea.

"You'll forgive me if I don't believe you," he averred.

"Ask me a question, Ed. Anything, anything that only Winry could know," the girl challenged him.

"Where does Den have automail?" he asked mildly.

"On her front left leg," the girl answered immediately.

Ed didn't reply. He averted his eyes as he thought, realising that he couldn't actually remember. He cursed his memory for choosing a time to fail him, or maybe it was whatever drugs they'd given him.

"If you're gonna ask me something, Edward, you'd might as well choose something that you actually know the answer to," the girl retorted.

"What did Al and I make for Winry for her birthday when I was seven?" he asked, confident that she wouldn't have a clue.

"You made _me_ a doll using alchemy," she answered easily, brisling slightly at him speaking in third person. "You performed it right in front of me and it scared the heck out of me. Your mom spent the next hour along with my parents trying to calm me down."

Ed stared at her, shocked. Only Al and Winry would know that, and she'd replayed that day back perfectly to him. It was something he had not been expecting her to do, least of all easily. She hadn't even had to pause to think.

"Do I pass?" she asked lightly.

"For now," he conceded.

"Good," she smiled. "Now, are you ready for breakfast?"

Ed blinked in surprise. He'd completely forgotten the food she was holding. Now that he was thinking about food again, his hunger came back with a vengeance. Despite this, he clenched his jaw. He didn't want to eat anything until he knew it was safe.

The fake Winry sighed, apparently understanding his reluctance. She pulled the stool up and sat down. She pulled out a pair of cutlery and cut into the pancakes. She pulled a small amount with her fork and popped the morsel in her mouth. She contentedly chewed and swallowed. She then licked her lips as she looked down at the rest of the breakfast. It was obvious that she wanted to have more, but was resisting. It was meant to be his breakfast after all.

"Well, I can't really eat it with my hands like they are," Ed mentioned, wondering what the girl's reaction would be. "Unless _you_ want to feed me."

Sure enough, she looked over to the bodyguard, who was pretending to be Armstrong. He narrowed his eyes and looked unsure of how to proceed, but obviously not eager to release even one arm. The girl turned back to him, uncertainty rife in her eyes and face.

"Do... Do you promise not to try anything?" she asked, genuinely fearful.

Ed was surprised, but then realised that this was just a young woman. She didn't have any special training or anything like that. Ed found himself feeling sorry for her. He gave her a small smile.

"I just want to eat on my own," he assured her.

The girl bit her lip anxiously, deliberating on who she should listen to. She kept looking to her companion, who's stony face was getting more uneasy by the second.

Eventually, she reached out and held the strap at his wrist. She watched him with extreme scrutiny, watching for any hint of deception. Her face was easily read, and it was screaming insecurity. Slowly, the sounds of leather creaking as it was loosened, but neither of them dared avert their eyes from each other.

When he felt the leather off his wrist, he managed to turn his hand over and he carefully curled his fingers to gently hold her thumb. He saw her tense, and her breath caught. He didn't move, noticing how his supervisor, her bodyguard, had stiffened at his stunt. He calmly breathed in and prepared himself for the next moment.

"Thank you," he whispered.

The girl instantly relaxed. She smiled slightly and he felt her move her hand to sit further in his. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze before letting go and pulling the leather strap out so he could move his wrist more freely. She then set to freeing off his fore and upper arm. However, she did not release his shoulder, merely freeing it off enough for him to move it slightly.

She stood back and picked up the tray from the stool. She sat down and cut up the pancake into tiny, manageable pieces. She then handed him the fork and held out the plate in plenty of distance for him to reach, and keep her safely out of danger.

With the exchange between them over, Ed carefully stabbed one of the pieces and manoeuvred it into his mouth. He chewed it slowly, being careful to taste it to try and detect any underlying flavour that would betray the drug they might have spiked the food with. However, all he could detect was the sweetness of the flat cake and the syrup.

He closed his eyes and smiled, relishing in the texture and taste. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten pancakes, probably the last time he had been staying at the Rockbell's. He had to admit, no one could ever make pancakes like the old lady, Pinako, did, just like automail. He was sure that Winry was almost as good at making them. And, these pancakes certainly reminded him of those two.

He allowed himself a moment. How he missed them, he missed Pinako with her stubbornness that he could never hope to equal; he missed Winry with her fiery temper and obsession with automail; he missed Al...

He missed Al, period.

Edward opened his eyes and looked at the girl. She seemed to be glowing with pride, and he wondered if she'd actually gone so far as to actually make his breakfast for him. He smiled at her and reached for another piece.

* * *

Major Armstrong kept a close eye on Edward. He watched every move the young alchemist did, and evaluated everything. He thought this was too risky, and he wasn't in a position to quickly help Winry if Edward did try something. But, she'd made the decision, and all he could do now was pray for the best.

Although, he had to admit, he was quite impressed that Winry had convinced Edward to eat something. And, even more impressively, Edward was actually relaxed and enjoying what he was eating. He was beginning to think it had been a good idea to include the young lady in this case.

Soon Edward had finished his breakfast, and he looked sadly at the empty plate. He reluctantly handed the fork back to Winry and then came the moment that Armstrong had been dreading.

"Look, Ed, I'm gonna have to put the straps back on," Winry explained cautiously.

It was obvious that she was nervous; she clearly was not looking forward to Edward's answer. At least she had moved the plate, knife and fork out of his reach, so the situation was somewhat diffused compared to five minutes ago. Not safe, just safer. He could do something now if anything went wrong.

"You don't want to do this, do you?" Ed asked her in a calm tone.

"No," Winry admitted. "No, I don't want to do this."

"I understand," Ed mentioned, nodding his head.

Then, he slowly laid his arm down where it had been restrained only twenty minutes ago. He didn't move as Winry redid the straps. She was careful to ensure they were tight enough, but not too tight to hurt her friend. When she was finished, she stepped back and picked up the plate.

"Thanks... Winry," Edward called as she was leaving.

She stopped, but a look from Armstrong made her carry on walking. However, when she reached the door, she could not resist looking back to her friend while she opened it. She saw him watching her, a slight smile on his face. She smiled back in response and then walked through the doorway and closed the door.

She rushed down the corridor. She felt this was something that Colonel Mustang would want to know.

* * *

"That's great news, Winry!" Al exclaimed happily, looking round to the still faced officers. "Is- Isn't it good news?"

"It could mean one of two things," Lieutenant Hawkeye explained. "One: The drug, whatever it is, is starting to break down and he's starting to recognise us again. That's the hopeful option."

"And the other?" Winry asked reluctantly.

"The other is that he's only pretending to recognise us," Mustang clarified. "If he's doing that, he's only going to make it harder for us."

"He'll think he's playing us who he thinks is playing him," Hawkeye continued. "It twists everything we all say, until we don't know whether to believe what the other is saying."

Winry didn't answer. She had been so happy to think the Ed was starting to improve, and now here was Lieutenant Hawkeye and Colonel Mustang telling her that it all might have just been an act. She felt tears run down her face as the tiny bird of joy was stuffed back into the cage of despair.

"But... Brother could be getting better, couldn't he? He could have recognised Winry, couldn't he?" Al asked desperately.

"We can only hope, Alphonse," Hawkeye answered. "We can only hope."


	8. Falling deeper

Author's Note: Sorry I didn't post this sooner, I asked writingleaf to have a look over this chapter before I posted it. First time to try anything, huh? This took me a long time anyway, I had a small amount of writer's block: knew where I was going but wasn't sure how to get there. But, I've got it done, and the next chapter should be up either tomorrow or Wednesday (providing my parents don't make me tidy my room like they did today)^_^

Enjoy!

* * *

The morning passed without incident, and Lieutenant Hawkeye found her superior slouched, asleep, in a chair. His chin was resting on his chest, which rose and fell slowly, steadily. It looked like this was the first time he'd had a chance for decent rest, and Hawkeye decided that she wouldn't disturb him.

She noticed a cup in his hand, which was resting at a precarious angle. Not wanting the cup to fall and break, and thereby wake the colonel, she gently eased it out of his grip. She smiled tenderly as she saw what resided in the cup. She was certain that Colonel Mustang had drunk enough coffee that morning to last him for three days.

Then, Mustang twitched and reluctantly opened his eyes. He closed them as he let out a yawn and stretched. Opening his eyes wearily, Mustang caught sight of his subordinate. He smiled tiredly as she straightened under his gaze.

"Report, Lieutenant," Mustang ordered softly as he put all his effort in _not_ going back to sleep.

"Major Armstrong has had no trouble with Fullmetal since breakfast. He said that Edward was..." Hawkeye trailed off as she checked the report that she had been holding. "_Edward has been compliant with answering basic questions that do not require an in depth knowledge of either party_," she read off the paper.

Mustang did not reply. He chewed his inner lip as he thought, using the occasional sharp bite to raise his drooping eyelids. Eventually, he nodded for Hawkeye to continue.

"Falman and Fuery told me that he spent the majority of their watch staring up at the ceiling. When Kane asked him about it, he answered that he had '_nothing better to look at'_."

"It's also easier to avoid a conversation," Mustang noted.

"And, Miss Rockbell asked if she could bring Edward his lunch and dinner," Hawkeye finished, watching her superior nervously.

Mustang sat up straight, all thoughts of sleep evaporated. He frowned thoughtfully, concernedly. It was obvious by the look on his face; Hawkeye knew exactly what was going on through his head, as it was also running through hers as well.

Ed had responded well to Winry, or so it seemed. This could be a way to break the young alchemist out of his delusion, but if he was only pretending... that could spell disaster.

"Who's with him now?" Mustang asked.

"Alphonse," Hawkeye answered shortly.

He raised his right hand to his chin and looked to the floor. Mustang was well aware of how Winry wanted to believe that Ed was improving, the same went for Al. While he admitted that he wanted it to be true, Mustang was a realist. He could see no reason as to Ed improving in such a short space of time without something drastic behind it. To him, this had all the telltale signs of a trap.

And they were walking blind.

He thought for a moment before looking back to Lieutenant Hawkeye.

"I want you to take his lunch," Mustang ordered. "Who's watching him this evening?"

"You are, sir," Hawkeye replied, raising her eyebrow slightly to show her disapproval of him not bothering to remember.

"Right, tell Miss Rockbell that she can bring his dinner. I don't want Alphonse and her together in the room with Fullmetal," Mustang explained.

"Yes sir," Hawkeye saluted before leaving the colonel.

A minute later, Roy Mustang was once again fast asleep.

* * *

Ed's chest rose and fell in the steady, unhurried breaths of someone deep in sleep. Not that it surprised Alphonse. His brother had exhausted himself with all the antics of the past week. It actually pleased Al to see Ed getting some shuteye. It was possible that while he was sleeping, Ed's body was spending the necessary time beating whatever drug it was that had done this.

It was a good thought.

"Al?"

Al looked up to see his brother looking at him with sleep-filled eyes. The odd copper coloured irises were still residing in his brother's eyes, making him look somewhat like a stranger. But regardless, Al still knew the young man was his brother.

"Alphonse, is that you?" Ed called sleepily.

Al slowly walked over to his brother's side, watching Ed's expression constantly. There was the confusion that had almost been engraved on his face, but there was something new; a flicker of what looked like hope now entered Ed's eyes. Al took it to be a good sign.

"Brother?" Al ventured cautiously.

"I... I can't tell if that's really you Al," Ed stated. "Things are so messed up for me right now. Maybe- maybe you're not my brother, but I can't tell anymore."

"It's going to be alright, Brother," Al assured him. "Soon, the doctor will find out what it is that's doing this to you, and everything will be alright. Soon, we can forget this whole thing, this week, the raid, everything."

Ed's eyes widened slightly in surprise, and then narrowed. His eyes darted from side to side as if trying to figure out how to deal with a new piece of information. He finally blinked and looked back at Al, a slight smile on his face.

"Right, Al, you're right. Soon... everything will go back to normal," Ed agreed.

Al couldn't help but feel that there had been a dangerous edge in Ed's tone, but he found he was unable to explain why. It suddenly made him uneasy. He couldn't help but feel that something had just gone horribly wrong, and it scared him that he could figure out what.

A knock at the door broke Al out of his thinking, and he turned to see who had come. He opened the door and found himself standing incredibly close to Lieutenant Hawkeye, who was carrying a tray of what looked like hospital food.

Al stepped back in surprise and allowed Hawkeye to walk past him and towards Edward. He watched her pull the stool forward and she sat down, remaining a safe distance from Ed.

"Do you recognise me, Fullmetal?" she asked.

"Not really," Ed admitted casually. "But I only really know one female officer with blonde hair, so you've gotta be Lieutenant Hawkeye."

"As a person, or as an act?" she demanded unrelentingly.

"Aren't you all saying you're the real people?" Ed asked back. "Besides, only Lieutenant Hawkeye could talk like that and get away with it."

Ed smiled mirthlessly at her. They were both still and silent for a moment, staring at each other. Ed finally gave up and let his eyes fall down to the tray that Hawkeye was holding. He bit his lip involuntarily and flashed a glance back up to Hawkeye.

"Do you want your lunch?" she asked emotionlessly.

"I'd like to eat it on my own, like I did my breakfast," Ed answered, his tone telling her how much he did not want to have someone feed him.

"While I can appreciate what you're asking, Edward, I'm afraid I've been instructed not to," Hawkeye explained, lying through her teeth.

Ed didn't answer, but turned his head away from her. A stony look was on his face.

"You don't trust me," he commented. It was not a question.

"You don't trust me," she replied. "So, we're even."

Ed did not reply, as if he couldn't see the point in talking to Hawkeye. He didn't see her stretch out her hand, only flinching when she touched his hand. He turned back to stare at her.

Hawkeye had a fork in her hand with some form of food on it. She was aiming it towards him.

"I'll make you a deal: eat like this for now, and I'll see about getting you to eat on your own for dinner," she bargained.

Ed looked at the fork, to her, and then back to the fork. He chewed his lip slightly as he thought the idea through. He turned his hand and held onto her sleeve, which caused Hawkeye to recoil slightly before she returned her hand with the fork to its original place. After a moment of sizing each other up, Ed finally conceded and opened his mouth.

With reluctance, the pair carried on; Ed allowing Hawkeye to feed him while he was restrained, and Hawkeye allowing Ed to hold onto her like he was while she fed him.

For Alphonse remaining in the background, the atmosphere in the room was not one he enjoyed being in. It was screaming of a thousand problems that he couldn't see or hear, but he could definitely feel them.

Finally, Hawkeye straightened up. The tray was reasonably empty, and Ed had let go of her sleeve. With nothing else apparently about to happen, Hawkeye stood up, moving the chair back.

"Do I get to eat with my own hand next time?" Ed asked impassively.

"We'll see," Hawkeye replied. "I promise you that I'll recommend it."

Ed didn't answer and took to staring at the ceiling.

Hawkeye took the tray and approached the door. She looked at Al and, with her back to Ed, she frowned, worry evident in her eyes. Obviously she had felt the same awkwardness and unease that Al had felt.

For some reason, that fact did not comfort the younger Elric.

As Hawkeye approached the door, Al intercepted to open it for her. She silently left the room, but turned round in the doorway. She looked at Al with deathly seriousness.

"Keep a close eye on him, Al. Something's wrong," she stated, the terrifying coldness of a soldier in her tone.

"What's going on?" Al asked desperately, unable to keep a slight whimper out of his voice. "What just changed in there?"

"I don't know, Al," she answered honestly, smiling a tiny, warm, comforting smile at him. "I'm going to report this to the colonel."

"O-Okay," Al slouched slightly in defeat.

"I'll be back as soon as I can with answers, Al. I promise," she assured him before stepping back.

Al took that as his cue to close the door and return to watching his brother. He reluctantly shut out Hawkeye's friendly face and turned to face his charge. He didn't speak as Ed stared back at him, a smug, confident look on his face.

Something definitely was not right.

Al looked longingly to door, praying for Hawkeye to return soon. He prayed that this nightmare would soon end.

* * *

Hawkeye didn't even bother to deposit the tray anywhere as she hurried from the door to find Mustang. She found her encounter with the young alchemist deeply unsettling, and she wanted to report it as soon as possible.

She rounded a corner and found her superior, along with Winry Rockbell. The pair seemed to be having a heated discussion, and it only took Hawkeye two seconds to guess as to what.

"Colonel, sir!" she called out from a distance, not wanting to know how far into the argument the pair were. An icy glance from Winry, however, indicated that it was far enough.

"What is it Lieutenant?" Mustang asked as she approached. "Did something happen during lunch?"

"Yes sir, I... I think something's gone wrong, sir," Hawkeye explained.

"What do you mean 'gone wrong'?" Winry demanded. "What happened?"

"It was Fullmetal. Something looked wrong even when I approached him," Hawkeye reported. "He seemed... confident and relieved, somehow. It was like he understood something that he hadn't before."

"Like, how he's being affected?" Mustang inquired.

"No, I don't think that was it, sir. But, whatever it is that he's 'figured out', it's sent him in the wrong direction," Hawkeye explained.

All was silent as Hawkeye's report settled in, each interpreting it in their own way. The silence around them was heavy and oppressive. It was Winry that spoke, unable to take the utter quiet.

"So, what are we going to do?"

"We need to think about this," Mustang replied. "Under these new circumstances, Miss Rockbell-"

"Please, will you call me Winry?" she begged, feeling uncomfortable with Mustang's formality. "And don't even think of saying that I'm not going in to see him again."

I don't think it's a good idea, Miss Rock- Winry," Mustang corrected himself. "I think it's for your own safety that you don't serve his dinner tonight. One of us can watch him-"

"No way!" Winry protested, interrupting Mustang for a second time. "I know Ed! I know he knew me at breakfast."

"That may be so, Miss- Winry," Hawkeye explained calmly, catching herself quicker than the colonel had. "But, something's change. He's made some connection that's isolated him from our efforts. He's going further into this delusion that we're not who we say we are."

The tray suddenly felt very heavy to Hawkeye. She turned to the table that was near them, what looked like the remains of the colonel's lunch was on it. She lowered the tray and placed it on the table. She dropped her hands and turned back to Colonel Mustang and Winry.

_Ting. Ting-tick._

Hawkeye looked down at the sound of something metallic hitting the porcelain floor tiles. It was a torpedo shaped piece of fourteen carat gold, only a centimetre in length and three millimetres in diameter. Stunned, Hawkeye knelt down and picked it up.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" Mustang asked as she stood back up.

"It's..." Hawkeye began, frowning in confusion as she examined the tiny object between her fingers. "It's a part of my cufflink."

Suddenly, Hawkeye's face dropped like a stone and she blanched. She raised her left hand and looked at the sleeve around her wrist. After a second, she looked slowly, in dread, back to the innocent looking piece of gold.

"Lieutenant?" Mustang repeated to his suddenly deaf subordinate. "Riza?"

"Sir?" she responded numbly, the colonel's use of her first name went unnoticed.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked slowly, not liking this horrific change in her.

"My cufflink is gone sir... last I saw it, I was in Edward's room. He..." she trailed off.

Her fiery disposition, which had apparently been blown out a second ago, came back to life and she closed her eyes and groaned. She raised her left hand all the way and covered her face shamefully. She allowed herself a moment to berate herself, and then lowered her hand to confess.

"Fullmetal was holding my sleeve, sir. He must of-"

She stopped abruptly as Mustang darted off, full pelt, down towards Edward's room. Hawkeye was instantly on his heels, and the light tapping behind her indicated that Winry was also following.

"What is it? What's happened?" she called.

"Fullmetal must have taken my cufflink apart. He stole the majority of it and has it with him," Hawkeye explained.

"I don't understand. How is that important? Why are we running?" Winry puffed.

"Just because Edward doesn't need a transmutation circle, it doesn't mean he can't make and use one!" Mustang shouted from in front of them. "He'll use the cufflink to scratch out an array."

Winry suddenly realised how dangerous that was. She knew that Edward had done that before, when she and him had been at the mercy of Barry the Chopper. He'd used a spare bolt that he'd picked up to scratch a transmutation circle into the chain that was wrapped around him, as that madman had removed Ed's arm.

"But... what could he possible scratch a circle onto?"

No one answered her. They turned a corner and Mustang reached the door. He grabbed the handle and wrenched it down. He burst into the room, a hand poised for alchemy if necessary.


	9. Breaking the veil

Author's Note: This one is a bit longer than 3,000 words, but I hate editing things out, so I haven't. If you're one of those people who get teary, you _may_ want a tissue for this chapter. One more chapter after this, within any luck... do I really mean that? It's almost over? O.O

Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

Alphonse jumped in surprise when the door burst open with a bang. His surprise was mixed with confusion as Colonel Mustang stormed in, his hands poised as if he was expecting a fight and his expression was grave, stony and all together unsettling. Al was then filled with bewilderment when Lieutenant Hawkeye and Winry rushed in behind the agitated colonel.

"Wha- What's going on?!" Al asked worriedly.

Mustang didn't reply, but stared at Edward. The bound alchemist stared back, a challenging look in his eyes. Both sized each other up and neither backed down from the other's glare. When it became obvious to Mustang that Ed wasn't going to disclose any information without encouragement, he spoke.

"Where is it, Fullmetal?" he demanded.

"Where's what?" Ed retorted, but a glint in his eyes showed Mustang that he knew.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye's cufflink... where is it?" he repeated, not eager to play games.

"Don't know what you're talking about," Ed stated smugly, an evil-looking gleam in his eyes.

Al looked from his brother to the colonel and back. Then, when neither spoke again, he turned to the two women, hoping for an explanation. However, Lieutenant Hawkeye was looking around the room, trying to find something that was lost on Alphonse.

"Winry? What's going on?" he whispered softly to her.

"There it is," Winry declared, her eyes locked onto the tiny, plainly decorated piece of gold.

Without a second thought, Winry walked up to the spot and knelt down. She picked up the cufflink and turned round. It was certainly a distance from Ed left side and she didn't think he could throw it this far.

Ed smiled at her maliciously and stretched his hand towards the leather strap by his waist. That was where Winry saw the transmutation circle. Her face fell as she realised how far she was away from the others she was, and she saw who was between them and her.

A flash of light erupted from Ed's bed which dissipated after a second, revealing an unbound alchemist. The leather straps were lying loose on the bed. Ed passed her a self-satisfied smirk, showing her mistake.

Without further ado, Ed shifted, turning his body away from Winry and toward his right. He moved his human, left hand towards his metallic right, a clap sounded across the entire room. He moved his left hand upwards towards his shoulder, where the connections that Winry had loosened were. A second flash threw the room into blue light and a strangled scream of pain echoed from Ed.

Mustang rushed forward, determined to do something to stop what he knew was about to happen. He was, however, unprepared for Ed to sit up and throw a punch with his newly repaired right arm. The metal fist landed squarely on Mustang's chin and he was sure he felt something in his jaw go crunch. Regardless, Mustang reeled back and ordered his disobedient eyes to focus and to stop watering.

Ed then joined his hands and reached for the connections in his leg, which were restored within the next seconds. Fully mobile again, Edward leapt off the bed and raced towards the paralysed Winry. He darted behind her, placing her between him and the others, and wrapped his arms around her.

For a moment, Winry thought he was going to hug her and that she'd feel his head pressed against her back as he used her as support. She thought he was coming to her because he faintly recognised her and wanted to feel protected. She thought differently a second later.

Ed's hands made contact and he slid his left hand over his right. The wrist guard buckled slightly and then began to change shape. A smooth, sleek, sharp blade extended past his hand and stopped at a point. It was Ed's usual blade, and it was pointed at Winry's jugular.

Everyone in the room froze. They stared fearfully at the predicament before them. One wrong move would prove fatal for Winry. No one dared to move.

Lieutenant Hawkeye observed the situation with great deliberation. Winry's terrified face and trembling body revealed nothing to Hawkeye that she did not already know. However, when she studied Edward, she found something interesting.

Ed was shaking as hard, if not harder than Winry was. He was breathing rapidly and shallowly. His eyes were wide and his pupils were dilated. His sight darted across the room, taking in every movement that anyone made. He was more afraid of the situation than anyone else was, even Winry.

He didn't recognise anyone in the room, it made sense that he was scared. But Hawkeye hadn't imagined that he'd be _this_ scared. She silently mused if he had always been this frightened but he had hidden it well, or if it was that no one had been bothered to notice.

Regardless, everyone knew now, and Colonel Mustang took in a deep breath to clear his mind and calm his unsettled peace. He looked undauntedly at Edward.

"Take it easy, Fullmetal," Mustang ordered calmly.

"Stop calling me that!" Ed barked, ignoring Winry's flinch. "Stop **pretending** that you're people I know!"

"You do know us, Fullmetal. You know each and every one of us, quite well I might add," Mustang insisted, keeping his voice low.

"I know who you're all pretending to be," Ed admitted softly. "But I know that you're not those people! You can't fool me!"

"We're not trying to fool you, Fullmetal," Hawkeye interjected. "We are who we say we are. I am Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, that is Colonel Roy Mustang, behind me is your brother, Alphonse, and the young lady you're currently holding is your friend and automail mechanic, Winry Rockbell."

"SHUT UP!" Ed shouted, tightening his grip on Winry's left shoulder, causing her to grimace.

"Please Brother..." Al begged. "You might not recognise Winry, but I know that you don't want to hurt her."

Ed looked around suspiciously, not once taking his eyes off the people in front of him for more than a second. He saw an obvious problem that he had to address, and quickly. There was only one way in and out of the room, and that way out was currently behind three people that he neither knew nor trusted.

"Move away from the door," he instructed in a very quiet voice.

"Fullmetal-"

"MOVE AWAY FROM THE DOOR!" he shouted, not wanting to hear anything more from them.

Unsure of how to proceed, Hawkeye turned to look at Mustang. She hoped he would look at her and provide instructions. When she received none, she turned her attention back to Edward. Apart from the slight movement of her head and eyes, no one had moved.

This did not satisfy Edward and he drew his bladed automail nearer to Winry's throat, causing her to catch her breath. She had also stopped shaking, making his tremors all the more evident. While it was obvious that Ed had snapped at some point today, he hadn't lost it completely... yet.

"Sir," Hawkeye murmured quietly.

Mustang inclined his head slightly towards Hawkeye. He paused for a moment and then returned his head to its former position.

"Full- Edward," he spoke softly, slowly, and calmly. "In the morning, the doctor will tell us what it is that's been affecting you like this. He'll be able to give you a set of medication that will fix this problem you're in."

"Problem?" Ed scoffed. "I know what the problem is. It was that raid, when I was covered in that dust, only it wasn't dust, now, was it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Like HELL you don't!" Ed yelled. "This whole thing started then. I was duped from the very second I came into contact with it, I really believed you were all people I knew. But my body started fighting it, it started to break down, and I saw you all for who you really are: imposters!"

Mustang couldn't reply. His mouth hung openly slightly in shock, as did Lieutenant Hawkeye's mouth. Neither of them could believe how backwards he'd thought the whole situation. They couldn't believe that he thought he was getting better, and that suddenly made the dilemma a thousand times worse.

"Now... if you don't move away from the door, I'm going to slice this girl's throat open!" Ed threatened, earning a terrified squeak from Winry as he edged the blade another fraction closer to her.

"Okay, Edward!" Mustang yelped, raising his hands in defeat. "Just... take it easy. We're moving away from the door, okay?"

As he said that, he did indeed take a sidestep away from the door. He nodded to Hawkeye and Alphonse to follow his lead. Reluctantly, they too moved to give Ed a clear path to the door. Three pairs of eyes followed Ed as he pushed the compliant Winry to the door. All the time, he held Winry between him and them. Then he reached the door, and realised a problem.

He either had to release Winry or he had to lower the blade. He was wasn't confident to do either, and had to find another option that didn't involve him changing the positions of his arms.

"Open the door," he hissed into Winry's ear.

Winry gulped. She feared what would happen to her if she didn't do what he said, but realised that she was as afraid of what would await her in the corridor. She didn't move for a moment and then caught Mustang's eyes on her.

His face was calm and collected, but his expression wasn't devoid of emotion. He was clearly worried about her, and Edward. Once he knew that he had her attention, he inclined his slowly before raising it again. He didn't speak, but the look in his eyes only spoke one thing to Winry: _trust me. Everything will be alright._

She breathed in and slowly reached out for the handle. She could see Ed glaring suspiciously between her and Mustang. As she turned the handle downwards, she could feel the locking mechanism in it click open. Carefully, so as not to spook Ed and make him do something potentially fatal towards her, she opened the door by a crack.

She stopped when she felt Ed shift slightly to look over her other shoulder. She knew he was checking the corridor, obviously to confirm that it was indeed safe for him to venture out of the room. She heard him whisper to her to open it further, apparently satisfied.

When the door was open just enough for the two of them to slip through, Ed pushed her roughly through the gap. Winry managed to see Mustang's face looking sternly at them. He suddenly looked up to the ceiling and the next thing Winry saw was the empty corridor.

Ed moved his automail arm away from her and he grabbed the door handle. He slammed the door shut, leaving Mustang, Hawkeye and Alphonse in the room.

Winry looked up the corridor and saw double doors not too far away. Her eyes widened as she realised what Mustang had asked her to do. She shifted her frightened gaze to Edward, who seemed more interested in which way to go than her. His bladed hand was still holding the door handle. She decided to take her chance.

She inhaled quickly and deeply. She raised her right arm up slightly and then brought it back down, shoving her elbow into Ed's gut. She felt him let go of her shoulder and she sprinted towards the doors.

"Hey! Stop!" Ed shouted from behind her in an angry, panicked voice.

But his shouts only fed her desire to get to the doors and she ran faster. She reached the doors and slammed into them with all her might. They opened easily and she ran to the stairs. She numbly knew that she was going higher, mainly by the fact that she had to raise her legs higher than when she lowered them and she could hear Edward's calls coming from below her. She no longer knew what he was saying, nor did she care. All she wanted to do, her only goal was to get as far away from him as she possibly could.

As she twisted round the landings, only too eager to climb the next set of stairs, she suddenly saw herself running out of staircase. A door stood in front of her and she couldn't stop herself running, full pelt, into it.

However, even with all of her momentum, the door did not open. Winry managed to catch herself on the railing before she started tumbling downwards. She panted heavily, feeling the stinging pain of contacting the door on her arms and face.

"Wait!" she heard Ed calling from below her, his mismatched footsteps echoing frighteningly close.

Winry slammed against the door again, feeling her level of blind panic escalate ever higher. When the door didn't budge, she banged on it with all her might. All the time, the frenzied echo of a flurry of footsteps coming ever closer brought her nearer and nearer to desperation and she screamed in terror and brought her hands down onto the door one last time, throwing her entire weight into it.

The door burst open and Winry landed on a concrete surface, knocking her out of her senseless fear. The concrete was warm and something warm was falling on her skin. Sunlight. It was sunlight. She'd managed to get outside. She'd managed to get to the roof.

The footsteps that were practically on top of her made Winry get up and continue running. She knew that by being on the roof, she had no means to escape, but she knew that she didn't have much of a choice but to run. The footsteps were only a few paces behind her, and she could feel her body beginning to falter.

Her foot caught on something, and she cried out in surprise as she fell. She didn't have a chance to rise. A moment later she felt a pair of mismatched hands grab her and hauled her to her feet. The human hand returned to grip her shoulder painfully while the metal one, the one that was her own creation, pointed a sharp blade at her throat.

"I don't know what you were trying to pull, just now," Ed growled. "But, that was the wrong move."

"Fullmetal!"

Ed's head whipped around to see who had followed them up to the roof. It was Colonel Mustang, followed by Lieutenant Hawkeye and Alphonse. Mustang had an exceptionally dark look on his face.

Ed jumped, placing Winry between himself and the enraged colonel. Any pretence Ed had once had was now gone. All he was showing was a completely terrified young man who had found himself in boiling hot water. He almost looked like a hare caught in a car's headlights.

"This has gone on for long enough, Fullmetal," Mustang stated, his expression softening slightly when he saw Ed's expression.

* * *

"Don't- Don't come any closer," Ed warned, absolute terror lacing every word. "If you do, I'll-"

_Dink._

Ed was instantly silent, and stared at the blade on the automail. There on the blade, just below the girl's chin, was an odd distortion. It was a tiny bubble and was barely noticeable, but he'd noticed it.

_Dink._

There was another, not too far from the first. As he blinked, he suddenly realised that the two distortions were tiny droplets of water. Two water droplets had landed on the automail. He almost looked up the sky, thinking that it was about to rain, but from the heat on his back, he knew that there wasn't a cloud in the sky. He tried to rationalise why two water droplets had landed on the automail.

_Dink._

Make that three droplets.

This time, he saw where the third droplet had come from. It had come from the girl. She was crying, and she was shaking uncontrollably. A small cut was on the side of her neck and one side of the blade was a tiny red line of blood that was crawling down towards him.

"I understand that you're afraid, Fullmetal," the man pretending to be Colonel Mustang stated calmly.

Ed couldn't understand how the man could be so calm and collected when his own world was falling apart at the seams. He was glad that the man had stopped glaring at him; that would have been all Ed needed to carry on running and leave them a horrid mess to clear up on ground level.

"I understand that you're afraid, and that you don't recognise any of us," the man continued. "But, you have to trust us, Edward. We're not here to hurt you."

"I don't believe you," Ed spat, desperate to sound angry and unafraid. "I DON'T KNOW YOU!"

"No?" the man cocked an eyebrow. "Well, suffice to say that at the moment, I'm not sure that I know you either. I doubt you'd even recognise yourself!"

Ed clenched his teeth in response to the man's raised voice. But something struck in Ed's mind, something that made him curious, and fearful, to know the answer. He wanted to know why the man had said what he'd said.

Slowly, Ed pulled the blade away from the girl. She'd stopped crying and she was no longer shaking, which seemed odd to Ed. Regardless, he raised the automail up slightly and then, after much deliberation, he twisted the arm slightly.

Ed let go of the girl and his arm fell lifelessly to his side. He vaguely noticed that the girl stood there for a moment and then bolted away from him. She was caught expertly by the blonde woman and Ed could hear her crying loudly into the woman's chest. The woman held her comfortingly.

He numbly looked up from the automail. He stared at the giant suit of armour, and felt that that was his safest bet. He had the least chance of getting that wrong.

"Al..?" he asked weakly. "Is that... Is it really you?"

"Yes, Brother," the suit replied, stepping forward. "It _is_ me."

Ed didn't respond as the suit approached him. He dazedly watched the metal get closer to him. When the suit stopped, he held out his right hand to touch the torso, not realising and not caring that he wouldn't be able to feel anything.

"Will you get rid of the blade, Brother?" the suit asked patiently.

Ed removed his hand from the suit and joined it with his left. He calmly slid his left over his right and watched the blade retract from view and disappear. Once the blade was gone, he let his arms dropped to his sides and he stared into the vacant space that was left.

"Why... Why can't I see you, Al?" he asked, tears falling silently down his face.

The suit didn't reply. He lifted his left hand and gently lowered it onto Ed's back... just like Al always did. That was when it finally hit home for Ed. This suit of armour _was_ Alphonse. He _did_ know all these people who were around him.

A sob broke out from Ed as his face twisted into an expression of anguish. He raised his arms and slammed his hands into his face. He hid behind the mismatched fingers as his tears fell and his crying echoed out across the roof. Amongst the sounds that came from himself, Ed heard someone talking.

"It's going to be alright, Brother," Al promised. "Everything's going to be okay."


	10. Truth revealed

Author's Note: Okay, I said this would be the last chapter, but it was going to be too long, so I had to cut it in half. Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

Ed sat silently on the chair. He stared at the floor sadly, as if all the answers would be revealed to him if he looked desolate enough. He wasn't even sure how he'd come to be in this strange room. The last thing he clearly remembered was crying on the roof with his brother next to him.

It had probably been Al who had moved him into this room.

His left arm was limp as the doctor took hold of his elbow and raised it up. Quickly and without fuss, he placed the needle into Ed's arm. He noticed the blond barely flinch at the prick. Suddenly, Ed looked up from the floor and gaze at him with a lost, hopeful expression.

"This... this'll find out what's wrong with me... won't it?" Ed asked in a feeble voice.

"That's right," the doctor replied, giving Ed a comforting smile.

Ed blinked and returned to staring at the floor. He had to admit, he certainly felt better since the crying episode. His head wasn't any clearer, he still had to guess everyone's identity, but something just felt _better_. It left him with the conclusion that he only felt better now that he knew for certain that he was in Central, had never left, and was surrounded by people he knew and who cared about him.

Yes... that certainty definitely made him feel better.

He turned to look at the figure who was sitting on the bed beside him. It was Al, obviously; Ed didn't know of any other spirit that was sealed in an armoured suit. He smiled at the helmet, a smile that quickly fell off his face.

"Al... my hand just went numb," Ed explained, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. He still felt too out of his comfort zone to put forward his usual, carefree attitude.

"It's okay, Brother," Al assured him, rubbing Ed's back gently. "That always happens when someone's taking blood, remember?"

"That's it," the doctor announced. "We're all done here."

Ed instantly took his arm back and cradled it. He didn't look particularly bothered by the exercise of drawing blood, it seemed to merely give him comfort to keep himself in as small a space as possible.

The doctor gave him a curious glance and then stood up and faced Colonel Mustang. The pair walked a short distance and, after a glance in Edward's direction to check that he wasn't trying to listen in, they discussed in hushed voices.

"This will be enough to single out what's affecting him," the doctor guaranteed.

"Good, how long until we get the results?" Mustang asked.

"Oh, a couple of days at most," the doctor replied. "Now, I would like to check over the young lady, Miss Rockbell? I understand she's been injured."

A quick intake of breath made them turn to Ed, who was suddenly looking quite pale. He was looking at the pair with shocked, pained eyes. His plea to not be responsible for harming his friend couldn't be any clearer on his face.

"It's nothing, Doctor," Mustang assured all who were listening. "It was just a tiny cut, nothing to get excited about."

"That's good to know," the doctor nodded. "However, I would like to have a look at your jaw, Colonel. A quick check-up won't be a hassle to your schedule."

With that, the doctor left the room, taking the vial of blood with him. Everyone was silent after he left. Ed returned to examining the floor, although neither Mustang nor Alphonse could see anything so intriguing.

"So, Colonel..." Ed started after a while. "What's my punishment going to be?"

"Punishment?" Mustang raised an eyebrow, not understanding where this train of thought had come from.

"I struck my superior officer," Ed explained emotionlessly. "I'm sure that's deserving of some kind of punishment."

Mustang blinked in surprise, and then broke into an understanding smile. He stepped forwards and knelt down so Ed could see him, an so he could see the young alchemist's eyes. Ever since the incident on the roof, they certainly looked clearer, even flecks of gold were once again present in those copper coloured eyes. It was a good sign to Mustang, and his smile widened slightly.

"Now, what kind of superior officer would I be if I punished my subordinates when they had been compromised?" Mustang asked.

"Comp...romised?" Ed repeated, blinking and looking straight into Mustang's cobalt eyes.

"That's right, Fullmetal," Mustang nodded. "You have been compromised ever since the raid, and are therefore not accountable for any of your actions that may otherwise be seen as insubordination."

Ed's eyes flickered from looking at one of Mustang's eyes to the other. He was trying to make sense of what the colonel had just told him, but was finding the information was having trouble sinking into his addled brain.

"The way I see it," Mustang continued when he realised that Ed was struggling. "You were in a compromised stated and the punch was out of desperation and self-defence, which I was unfortunate enough to get in the way of. You won't be punished for that, Fullmetal."

Ed blinked. The only part of Mustang's speech that Ed understood was that he wasn't going to be punished for what he'd done. He'd threatened innocent bystanders, attacked co-workers, struck his superior officer and had held a blade to his best friend. It didn't make sense that he wasn't going to be punished.

"Get some rest, Fullmetal," Mustang ordered gently. "Alphonse, would you take him to his room?"

"Sure," Al agreed. "Come on, Ed."

Edward, however, gripped the chair tightly. He looked at Al and then Mustang with a look of dread.

"I don't want to be tied down again," Ed whimpered, unable to stop fresh tears from falling down his face.

"I promise you, Edward," Mustang spoke softly, placing his hand on Ed's left. "You won't be. That bed has been removed from the room and replaced with a normal. I just want you to get some rest."

Ed stared at Mustang for a moment. He tried to find any hint of deception, any trace that something was being hidden from him. All he found was openness and honesty.

Feeling slightly better at the thought, he nodded and let go of the chair. Without another word, he followed Al out of the room and towards his appointed room.

* * *

It was raining. Ed didn't remember when it had started, but it was nice to stand and look out of the window and watch the droplets hit the glass and run down in several little streams. He couldn't remember when there had been a window in his room, but he didn't mind. It was nice to stand and watch the world get soaked, letting the twilight from dusk wash over him.

He stood there in total silence, the only sounds were the rain drops hitting the glass and his steady breathing, which would send a small mist across the window. The sound of the door handle dropping and the click of the door opening were quite loud. There were footsteps that took three steps and then stopped. A second click indicated that the door had been closed.

The silence returned. The person who'd entered didn't speak, nor did they move. Ed didn't turn around to face them. He was happy to stand at the window and watch the world be cleansed by the falling rain. After a while, his curiosity got the better of him.

"Do I know you?" he asked casually.

"I should hope so," the person replied, a female voice replied.

Further intrigued by the person, Ed turned away from the window and faced the individual. He didn't recognise her, but that didn't overly surprise him. He didn't recognise his brother or anyone in the military that he knew.

"I don't recognise you," Ed stated, inwardly hoping this woman would introduce herself.

"I know," she replied, seemingly unbothered by the fact.

"Who are you?" Ed asked bluntly, the need to know this woman becoming more pressing.

"Give it some thought," she answered. "You'll find the answer."

Ed could see that this woman wasn't going to introduce herself. He'd used the process of elimination with the rest of his visitors, and decided to use the same technique on her.

"Well..." he began, thinking about her appearance very carefully, trying to think of people he knew with similar features.

"Why don't you list what I look like? It might help you," the woman suggested.

Ed didn't answer, and frowned. He didn't like how easily this person was taking his difficulty. He didn't like how accepting she was, nor how she eagerly offering him advice on how to work out her identity.

"Well, you have brown hair, so you can't be Teacher," he commented, eliminating Izumi.

"No," the woman answered. "I don't know alchemy."

"And... you have green eyes," Ed mentioned, thinking about who he knew who had brown hair and green eyes. "Are you... Are you Sciezka?"

The woman smiled at him and shook her head, making Ed feel foolish. This reminded him of a game he, Al and Winry had played when they were children. They would pick a person that they knew and would answer questions so the others could guess who they were pretending to be.

Ed had been terrible at that game.

"Think harder," the woman encouraged. "You know who I am."

"No..." Ed answered, feeling tears coming to his eyes. "I don't know who you are."

Ed closed his eyes. He had no idea why he was crying. He didn't deny that it was frustrating that he couldn't recognise the woman in front of him, but he couldn't even think of anyone that she could be. He was certain that she was probably disappointed with him.

"I'm not disappointed," the woman assured him.

Ed's eyes flew open. She had sounded much closer than the door. And, sure enough, there she was, standing three feet away from him. Her eyes were soft and her smile was warm. She looked so friendly, it really was starting to hurt Edward that he was clueless to her identity.

"Now, now," she rebuked him gently, further closing the distance between them. "We don't need you hating yourself for not thinking of my name."

"But," Ed protested. "But I want to know who you are."

He could feel the tears begin to leak from the corners of his eyes, and he felt them roll down his cheeks. He couldn't help but feel ashamed. He knew that he had no right to the tears that were escaping from him. This woman had more right to cry than he did.

"Maybe..." the woman mused quietly, reaching out her hand. "Maybe you can't see me clearly through those teary eyes."

She ran her hand across his right eye, wiping away the tears. She then used her thumb to gently banish the tears that were falling from his left eye. Ed kept his eyes closed even when she'd removed her hand.

"I still won't recognise you," Ed warned.

"Why don't you open your eyes and tell me that?" the woman challenged kindly.

Slowly, Ed opened his eyes and looked at the woman. His eyes danced across her face, unbelieving. She couldn't be who he thought she was... she couldn't be...

"It's okay," she assured him with a smile.

"But- but you're-" Ed began until she rested two of her fingers on his lips.

"You are dreaming," she explained, removing her hand from his face. "So you will see whoever you need to see."

"But... why haven't I seen you earlier?" he asked.

"Because earlier, you've only wanted to see me. Right here, right now, you _need _to see me. And so, here I am," she clarified.

"Does... does this mean I'm going to be alright?" Ed asked.

"I think you already know the answer to that, Edward," she replied.

"Can you then, tell me what I already know?" Ed requested.

She didn't speak, but smiled understandingly. She reached out with her right hand and took his left wrist. She raised it so they could both see his palm. She then extended her forefinger from her left hand and lightly touched his palm. He watched dedicatedly as she traced something on his hand. There was no mark from the action, but Ed memorised it so he could use it later.

Finally, she was finished and she let go of his hand. She stepped back so he could think his next action through.

Ed looked at his hand for a moment longer and looked at her, gazing at her face as she gazed back and smiled at him. He then stepped forward. He opened his arms and wrapped them around her. As he felt her wrap her own around his shoulders, he felt like he was seven years old again, and he held her tighter.

His shoulders shook as he tried to think of something he could say, because he knew this would be the only time that he would see her. So, he said what he had told her countless times throughout the years, just before he went to sleep.

"I'm sorry, Mom," he cried. "I'm so sorry for we did, for what I did, for what I made Al do. I'm sorry I didn't look after him, like I promised you I would. I'm sorry, Mom... I'm sorry."

"Edward..." Trisha Elric cooed, stroking her son's golden head. "You know that there is nothing that I can say for what you did."

"I know," he replied. "But... I need to say it."

"I know, sweetheart. But, you will always be my big, strong man," Trisha whispered. "I need you to be strong for your brother. And when you've fulfilled your promise to him, I want you to fulfil your promise to me."

"I will, Mom," Ed promised. "I will."


	11. Fixing the problem

Author's Note: This is a short one because it would have made too long a chapter with Chapter 10. Anyone interested in the array that I described... it's my avatar. And, anyone who wants to continue this story is welcome to, just let me know so I can read it. ^_^

Enjoy the last chapter!

* * *

Ed opened his eyes and stared up at the wall. It was quite different to all the times he'd woken up, still feeling exhausted, and was staring at the ceiling while trying to escape the restraints. This was different, and he found it quite refreshing. This time, he was well rested and his head was clearer than it had been all week.

He sat up and looked around. There was no window in his room, which made sense. He probably would have tried to jump out of it a day before. That meant that he had been dreaming about standing by the window and talking to his mother, but somehow, that didn't matter.

Today, he knew exactly what he had to do.

Ed got out of bed and walked straight to the door. He pressed the door handle down and found it was locked. Undaunted, Ed clapped his hands together and pressed on the door. He worked it slightly and undid the lock, and then opened the door and stepped out.

Alphonse was sitting there. He had a book with him, which he had obviously been reading when Ed had used alchemy on the door. It was the strangest feeling for Edward. He knew that he was looking at Al, but didn't have a hint of recognition when he looked at the armoured suit.

"Brother?" Al asked warily at the sight of his brother.

"Hey Al," Ed greeted warmly, looking down both corridors. "Only you watching me? Did I really look that bad last night?"

"Uh- well..." Al began, unsure of how honest he should be.

"That's okay, Al," Ed smiled at his younger brother understandingly. "Where is everyone?"

"In the main building," Al replied. "Why?"

"The main building..." Ed mused, looking at his bare foot and automail. "I need to talk to them. You feel like giving me a lift, Al?"

* * *

Everyone turned as the door opened. Similar faces of shock appeared once everyone saw who it was.

"Hey everyone," Ed greeted, a huge smile on his face.

"F- Fullmetal?" Hawkeye stuttered, her mouth open slightly.

"Ah, Lieutenant! Just the person I needed to talk to," Ed announced cheerfully, walking up to her. "Do you have a pen I can borrow?"

"A pen?" Hawkeye repeated, her eyebrows rose in suspicion.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything dangerous," he assured her. "I'll give it back in a second."

Reluctantly, Hawkeye passed over a pen.

Ed took it in his right hand and pulled off the lid. He laid his left hand flat and began to draw. He carefully traced the shaped that he remembered his mother had in the dream and soon a shape formed. From the shape came other lines and an array appeared.

It was quite a simple array on face value. There were two circles, one significantly smaller one in the centre of the other. Connecting the two circles were four curves that were of equal distance from each other, the curves pointing in an anticlockwise direction. Were the curves met the outer circle, were straight lines that pointed in the same direction as the curves. Between the curves were two lines that came together at a point, pointing towards the centre. And in the centre of the inner circle was a six-pointed star, formed by two crossing equilateral triangles.

Ed returned the pen to Hawkeye, thanking her, as he examined the array. He was aware of everyone else regarding it as well. He waited patiently for the questions to come.

"What is that, Brother?" Al asked.

"This, Al," Ed spoke like he was introducing a VIP. "This is the array that alchemist used on the raid to transmute the bookcase. I'm going to use to right what he put wrong."

"But Brother!" Al protested.

"Everyone agreed that the dust had nothing to do with this," Hawkeye explained quickly, fighting the panic that was rising up her throat.

"When it came in contact with my lungs, it stopped being dust. It was two-step alchemy; the first step was to become dust so fine I couldn't _not_ breathe it in. The second step was for the dust to transmute into a substance that would affect my ability to recognise my surroundings and the people around me," Ed explained.

"So... what are you going to do, Fullmetal?" Mustang asked from the desk he had managed to usurp from a doctor. "Transmute this substance into dust while it's still inside you?"

"That's the idea," Ed confirmed.

Before anyone else could speak, Ed clapped his hands together and pressed his left hand onto his chest. A bright light erupted from Edward and broke into the room. After a moment, the light faded and Ed lowered his hand.

He looked at each person in the room, and found himself disappointed. He looked back at the array on his hand, a confused frown on his brow. He was certain that he'd redrawn it correctly, and couldn't understand why it hadn't worked.

"That... was meant to work," Ed muttered quietly, angrily.

No one spoke, unsure of what to say. They had been surprised that Ed had had such an idea, and more to the point, even in his altered state, they were surprised that he was wrong. Edward being wrong about alchemy was a rare occurrence.

And then, Ed started coughing. He raised his hand to cover his mouth and felt his knees collapse from beneath him. He heard everyone call to him and utter words of comfort, telling him just to ride it out and that it would be over soon.

Then, Ed felt something solid hit his hand and he stopped coughing. There was nothing else happening, so he straightened up, sitting on his heels. He looked down to examine the object in his hand. It was the right size to snugly fit in the palm of his hand.

"What is that?" Hawkeye asked in an astonished voice, her hand over her mouth.

"That... is all the dust I inhaled," Ed explained proudly, still staring at the object.

The object suddenly burst into flames and was quickly reduced to ash, while Ed's hand remained unharmed. Ed only knew one person who could be that precise.

"Now that's gone, can you recognise us?" asked a familiar voice.

Ed smiled. That was the first time in a week he had been able to recognise anyone's voice. He raised his eyes to look at the person who had spoken and stared at his face. How could he not recognise that face, that face that seemed to have a permanent smug look engraved into the features?

He didn't say anything and turned to his right and found himself looking at a feminine face that was far too close, but he didn't recoil from it. He found it nice to look at Hawkeye's face and be able to know it was her that he was staring at.

He stood up and passed his attention over everyone in the room. His smile grew little by little as he looked over Havoc, Breda, Fuery, Falman and, finally, his brother, Alphonse. Their faces, everything about them were as familiar to him as if he'd only seen them a day ago, rather than a week ago, when the dust had messed him up. He didn't recognise the doctor, but he was certain that he wasn't meant to.

It was then that he noticed that someone was missing.

"Where's Winry?" Ed asked, turning to Al, Hawkeye and then Mustang.

"There was nothing else for her to do, so she went back to Resembool," Mustang replied emotionlessly.

"Is she alright?" Ed pressed.

"She's fine, Brother," Al assured him.

Ed didn't answer. He knew that he had to talk to Winry about this whole event, and he knew that he had a lot of apologising to do. He wondered if putting himself up for target practise for her wrench would make her feel better.

Then again, maybe she was scared of him now, not that he would blame her. No amount of apologies would ever heal that kind of break in their friendship. She would probably be wondering what he might do if he got upset... and he would find himself wondering the same question, fearing that he might hurt her again.

He lowered his eyes and found himself looking at his automail arm. He'd attacked it with a knife, his leg too. That meant that it could be broken in places. That meant that he had to go back to Resembool to get it checked over and fixed.

That meant he would have to face Winry and Pinako... and who knew what those two had discussed about this incident. He suddenly felt very worried about going to Rockbell Automail; he had no idea what kind of welcome he was going to have. No, he was more than worried; he was utterly terrified.

"Al... we'll have to go to Resembool," Ed managed to say in a strangled voice. "I need Aunt Pinako to look over my automail, make sure that I didn't... damage it too badly. Then, we can carry on looking for the Stone."

"Okay, Brother," Al agreed sympathetically.

Ed looked over to Colonel Mustang. He needed the man's permission to leave as was protocol, which was the most annoying part of being in the military. Usually, he would do whatever he wanted, but he felt that this time he needed it for more than just protocol. He waited patiently for his superior officer to speak.

"You can go as soon as the doctor gives you the all clear," Mustang stated, nodded his permission to Ed.

"Thanks Colonel," Ed smiled appreciatively. He then turned to the doctor and followed the man out.

He and Al were on the train to Resembool that evening.


End file.
